185 
>l4-7 




Glass ^ 
Book 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



1 



In Tree America 




I 




UDDLED FROM THE WAIST UP.' 



(See page 22.) 



IN FREE AMERICA 



OR 



Tales from North and South 



BY 

ELLEN F. WETHERELL 




With introduction by 

Hon. ARCHIBALD GRIMKE 
American ex-Consul to Santo Domingo 



BOSTON, MASS. 

THE COLORED CO-OPERATIVE PUBLISHING CO. 

5 P^RK SQUARE 



.VJ4-7 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

JUL. 17 1901 

aPIIOHT ENTRY 
Q_XXo. No. 
COPY A. 



I. 



Copyright, 1901, 
By Co-operative Pdblishing Company, 



All rights reserved. 



FISH PRINTING COMPANY, BOSTON, MASS., U. S. A. 



/- 






H 









Dedication. 



TO MY SISTER : 

MY INSPIRER. MY GUIDE, MY COMPANION. 

IN THE WAYS OF JUSTICE, 

THESE SKETCHES ARE LOVINGLY INSCRIBED 

BY THE AUTHOR. 




HUN. ARCHIBALD 11. GRIMKE. 
American ex -Consul to .Santo Domingo. 



INTRODUCTION. 



As "good wine needs no bush," T am sure that Miss 
WetherelPs sketches from real life in free Aim rim 
need no word of introduction from me. For they have 
the rare merit of simplicity, and of going straight to 
the heart of the wrongs which they depict. I found 
them frank, sympathetic, natural, and breathing through- 
out an air of human brotherhood -and liberty. In a 
land where so much of the national life is out of joint 
with justice and equality, this little book is the brave 
attempt of a brave woman to set that life right with 
the fundamental principles of the Republic. It has, 
therefore, my hearty wishes for its abundant success 
as it issues from your press on its noble mission. 

Archibald H. Grimke. 



CONTENTS. 



In " Free America " 
Anderson Hixon's Escape 
The Abolitionist's Daughter 
The Shooting of the Deputy 
Slavery, 1900 . 
The Tim Peters Tragedy 
Hunting the Blind Tiger 
A Lynching Affair 
Election at Red City 
In Boston, 1900 
In Ole Alabam' 
Kansas Tragedy. 1901 



PAGl 
J 7 



39 
49 
59 
07 
75 
87 
95 
109 
119 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



'Riddled from the Waist up" 
Drawn by .T. A. Skeete. 



opposite 

PAGE 

Frontispiece 



Hon. Archibald H. Grimke .... 

Ellen F. Wetherell 

Negro Cabin, Red Citv, Florida . 

A Typical Florida Girl .... 

Negro Cabins in the Pine Woods of Florida 



9 
16 
20 
64 
90 



PREFACE. 



During the year 1896 there were one hundred and 
forty persons lynched in the United States. 

In March of the year 1*97 in the state of South 
Carolina a colored woman and her son were taken to 
a public square and there whipped to death for a slight 
misdemeanor. 

In the same state and county a black man was 
lynched by the white people of his town, merely on 
suspicion of being an incendiary. 

A short time ago two women, mere girls, were hanged 
in Florida without a trial. 

In 1S98 hut a few miles from New Orleans a Negro 
was dipped in kerosene oil, bound to a stake, and 
burned to death in the presence of the town's popu- 
lation. 

In the same year in Texas six Negroes, charged with 
arson, but afterwards proved to be innocent, were 
lynched. 

Recently in Kentucky in the presence of assembled 
thousands a colored citizen of the state of Illinois was 
Lynched in the most cruel manner, because charged with 
the murder of two young girls ; although, as was after- 
wards proved, he was forty miles away at the time. 



16 PREFACE. 

In Louisiana in the present year two Negro brothers 
were lynched, and their mother and sister severely 
whipped, because they would not or could not tell of the 
hiding-place of a Negro charged with shooting a white 
man. 

In the same state in 1899 an old man and his son 
were lynched for protesting against the arrest, by offi- 
cers, of a Negro who had slapped a white child. 

In 1H97 in Mississippi three hundred "respectable 
citizens " marched to a schoolhouse and murdered in 
cold blood an educated, well-behaved young teacher, a 
mulatto, Frank B. Hood, because he wrote a so-called 
insulting letter to a member of the school board. 

No arrests were made for any of the above murders, 

for they expressed the sentiments of the governfng 

class. 

e. f. w. 



IN FREE AMERICA. 



In Free America. 

MY sister and I walked slowly down the sandy 
Florida road leading to Christian Johnson's. It 
was a cold, windy day in late February. Over in a 
field on the branch of a dying orange-tree a mocking- 
bird was sweetly singing. We passed a low pine wood, 
where lean cattle were pulling at the brown sparse 
grass. We also passed a row of whitewashed cabins, 
and came upon some children playing in a yard. Their 
skins were a little darker than our own, and their hair 
curled tightly to their heads. We stopped to inquire 
of them the way. " Dar's Johnson's," said one, point- 
ing a little yellow finger straight to an unpainted house 
farther down. The child's voice was as sweet as a silver 
bell, but her idiom was suggestive, and I said to my 
sister, " A case of neglected education ? " My sister 
said, " TJwsc children's ancestors, their fathers and their 
mothers, fur man;/ generations, were whipped, aye, even 
whipped unto death , for daring to try In barn to read" 
We found Christian Johnson at the back of his house 
sawing wood. He was a lithe, dark-skinned, intelligent- 
faced man, with teeth as white as milk. He came for- 

17 



|,S IN FREE AMERICA. 

ward, greeting us pleasantly. He said his wife was not 
at home; would we go in and wait? Assenting, we 
were shown into the "parlor." It was a large room, 
unplastered and uncarpeted. Its furniture was simple, 
consisting of two neatly made heds at one end, a pine 
table, a few rude chairs and a small stove. There were 
wide cracks in the walls, through which the wind 
whistled and the sand silently drifted. Our host, see- 
ing we were cold, opened the kitchen door and called 
loudly, " Delia." A bright-looking child immediately 
responded. " Fetch some wood fo' the fire," said he. 
Quickly the child returned, her arms full of " fat-wood." 
This she skilfully arranged in the little stove, then draw- 
ing a match across its rough edge she laid it against 
the resinous mass. The flame flashed and leaped and 
went roaring up the long chimney. 

" Your daughter ? " asked my sister, her eyes kindly 
following the little girl's movements. 

" Granddaughter," said he laconically. 

He turned his chair away from us as he spoke, tip- 
ping it sidewise against the wall, his long legs thrust 
out to the fire. There seemed a slight embarrassment 
in his manner. 

" We are from the North," said my sister after a 
silence — " Yankees." 

" Yes," said he, his eyes still upon the fire. 

" The Northern people are your friends, are they 
not ? " asked my sister. 



IN FREE AMERICA. V.) 

Our host showed his white teeth pleasantly and 
shook his head. "Not all of them," said he. 

" Does Delia attend school ? " said my sister. 

" Yes, ma'am," he replied ; she's having a chance 
what her father an' her mother never had." 

" Were they slaves ? " asked my sister. 

" Father was ; mother ain't thirty year yet." 

-Were you ever a slave, Mr. Johnson?" asked my 
sister. 

" All my life till 'Mancipation Act," said he. 

" And now you are a free man and a citizen of the 
United States ? " 

Our host dropped his chair to the floor, wheeled it 
facing us. 

" Yo' means a voter ? " said he. 

" Yes," said my sister. 

" Oh, I votes," replied he scornfully, turning away 
from us again. 

" And your vote is counted ? " My sister asked the 
question hesitatingly. 

" Countcil out alters," he said emphatically. 

" Have you voted here in Eed City ? " continued she, 
unabashed. 

" Yes, once ; ain't lived here long." 

" Where did you live before coming here ? " 

« Up in Mad's'n County," said he ; " the mos' re-bel- 
lious county in the state of Florida." 



20 IN FREE AMERICA. 

" And that was where your vote was ' always counted 
out ' ? " continued my sister with Yankee persistency. 

The legs of our host's chair dropped to the floor with 
a crash. He jumped from his seat, went to the door 
and called loudly, " Delia." 

Again the bright-faced child responded. 

" Fetch mo' wood for the' fire," said he. 

She disappeared, and again returned with more pitch 
knots. Again the flame blazed and leaped and roared. 
I leaned forward to its warmth. Christian Johnson 
turned his chair toward us. His embarrassment was 
gone. "Do yo' want toe shear about 'lection up in 
Mad's'n County ? " said he. 

" We do," said my sister quietly. 

"Then I'll tell yo' what I knows, what I knows toe 
be true, what I knows has happened an' is happenin' 
in tlie mos' robellious county in the state of Florida. 
A HI' over one year ago, when I'se a-livin' up there, 
a 'lection took place. I never tooks no great interest 
in votin', fo' I knows 'tain't much use, but a Men' of 
mine, who was allers fightin' the wrongs, asked me toe 
«o down toe see the votes counted, so I went. There 
was three inspectors chosen toe do the work. One of 
them chosen was a colored man. That night them 
three inspectors was sittin' inside the rail with the 
ballot-boxes befo' them; my frien' an' me was outside 
with some others. Sudden the do' opened an' fo' men 



IN FREE AMERICA. 21 

walked in. Two of them men stopped at the do', the 
other two went straight to them ballot-boxes, sayin' no 
word to nobody, swept their arms clar round 'em, votes 
an' all, an' marched out again, them other two fol- 
lowin'." 

" And you, you," broke in my sister, " sat there and 
allowed that thing to be done, that robbery of rob- 
beries ? " 

Mr. Johnson smiled grimly. " Fo' men n-carryin' fo' 
Winchesters wa'n't toe be trifled ivith." 

My sister nodded her head, and he went on : " Now 
lemme tell you, my frien' who was a-lookin' on said : 
' This ain't right ; this am an injustice ; this am stealin' 
of the worst kind ; this am against the law of the land,' 
an' he went an' row-plained of them toe Mad's'n County ; 
an' what yo' think, lady, Mad's'n County did ? " 

My sister shook her head. 

" Mad's'n County laughed, jes' laughed in his face an' 
tole him toe help himself if he could. Now," said he, 
extending a long forefinger toward us, " that man, that 
m-former was doomed, an' he knew it. He knew it 
when he made that corn-plaint, but it done make no 
difference toe him, he done it jes' the same ; he wanted 
justice done toe them votes. He wanted the black man 
toe have his rights." 

My sister drew nearer to the fire. Suddenly she felt 
cold. There was a chill in the air. Mr. Johnson, never 
heeding, his long forefinger still extended, went on: 



22 IN FREE AMERICA. 

"Wait, lemme tell yo' the rest. One night when 
there was no moon a-shinin', when there was no stars 
a-lookin' clown to see, one night when it was a-rainin' 
black, my frien' sat in his lil' cabin with his wife an' 
chillun, when sudden there came a knock on the do'. 
He trembled, fo' he suspected what it meant. Another 
knock louder than befo'. At that my frien' started toe 
see who was there, his wife pleadin' and cryin', ' Doan 
go, for my sake an' the chillun's, doan go ! " Said he, 
' What has I toe fear. I'se done nothin', an' he opened 
the do' wide. A man stood there with a mask over 
his face, an' in his hand a Win-cAester, an' that man 
said, ' We want yo' outside.' My frien' knew what it 
meant then, an' he said : ' I'll not go outside ; I'se done 
nothin'.' Then, from the brakes befo' the cabin, a dozen 
men sprang, an' befo' another word was spoke, their 
Win-cAcsters had done the work." 

"Murder! " said my sister, hoarsely. 

" Murder," said Christian Johnson, drawing his hands 
in a dramatic manner upward over his body. " Riddled 
from his waist up" 

" My God ! " said my sister reverentially. 

" Lemme tell yo' mo'," cried he excitedly ; " lemme 
tell yo' the res'. Somebody said, - I'll com.-plaia of that 
murder to Tallahassee,' an' they did. An' Tallahassee 
came down. Tallahassee came down with her eyes 
shut. Tallahassee came down with her ears stopped 



IN FREE AMERICA. 23 

up. Tallahassee looked, an' she hunted an' she scoured. 
But Tallahassee couldn't see nothin'. Tallahassee 
couldn't hear nothin'. She looked in at the sto's where 
them murderers was at work. She went iutoe the 
offices where them murderers sat a-writin' with smilin' 
faces, but she never foun' nothin'. Tallahassee hunted 
in the hotels. She hunted in the churches. She 
hunted with blin' eyes. There was peoples talkin' all 
about her, speakin' loud the names of them men who 
killed my frien'. But Tallahassee's ears were stopped 
up, Tallahassee heard nothin' of them names. Talla- 
hassee went home." 

" And no arrests were made ? " asked my sister in- 
credulously. 

" Blin' men, be they the Government, or not, never Jin' 
nobody toe arrest" said Christian Johnson. 

" And this was in ' Free America,' " said my sister. 

" This is in Free America," replied he. 

My sister and I walked slowly home through the 
heavy Florida sand. We passed the low pine wood with 
its spare brown grass. The lean cattle had been driven 
home. We passed the whitewashed cabins, but the 
dark-skinned children were gone. From the branch of 
the dying orange-tree the mocking-bird had flown with 
his song. We looked upward. High against the pale 
evening sky a flock of buzzards were hungrily wheeling 
earthward. 



Anderson Hixon's Escape. 

IT was midnight in Red City; a sultry, suffocating 
midsummer midnight, a black night, in which the 
sand roads, pine tracts and gray, barren fields were 
swallowed up. Occasionally a muttering of distant 
thunder ominously broke the stillness. From the 
thicket came the musical hum of insects. The odor 
of cape jasmine was rich upon the air. 

Delsie Hixon leaned from her window to get a freer 
breath. Her heavy body palpitated with the heat. The 
mosquitoes swarmed in and out, and settled upon her. 
She heeded them not. She was talking to herself in 
a low musical voice. " I'se tole," said she, " that my 
boy inus' leave Red City, or he have toe be killed. I'se 
tole that my Anderson, my baby, mus' go away from 
his home, from his father and mother, or he'll have toe 
die. I'se tole he mus' go away from shere an' never 
come back no mo'. But I, his mother, I remembers 
hearin' the voice of the Court. I remembers heariu' the 
voice of that Court say, ' Not guilty, not guilty, Ander- 
son Hixon, of the crime accused,' an' I remembers how 
I cried when I heard it, how I laughed when I heard 
it. An' I remembers how glad I was when my boy 
walked free out of that court. An' now I'se tole he 
mus' go away. I'se tole that the citizens of Red City 

25 



26 IN FREE AMERICA. 

demands my Anderson goin' away. They say he can't 
live among them no mo'." Delsie folded her arms 
across her broad bosom and leaned farther out on the 
sill. " But I, his mother, say the law have pronounced 
him free; the Court have said, 'Not guilty,' an' his 
mother say he shall never go away, he shall live jes' 
where he chooses, an' that is right shere at home." 

Delsie paused and drew back. Suddenly a red snake 
leaped" from the threatening clouds and writhed across 
their blackness. A long, muiHed roar followed. Still 
the mosquitoes sang in the thicket. 

Delsie went on : " I remembers ' slavery days.' I 
remembers when I was 111' chile an' lived with my 
mother in the 111' cabin on the plantation. I doan' 
remembers no father. I expects that my massa was 
my father. I remembers the whippin's the black peo- 
ples had. I remembers the deathblows the runaways 
got, an' the long hunts after them that was hid away 
in the swamps. I can see the dogs a-runnin' hard, with 
their red tongues hangin' out, an' their lank sides 
a-heavin'. I can hear their long, deep bay, an' their 
snappin' an' snarlin' when they done foun' the po' negro. 
I sees tonight the slave what runs pas' my mother's 
cabin a-bearin' 'cross his breast his lil' brother, bleedin' 
an' dyiii', the houns behind comin' on faster an' faster. 
I knows of the awfulness of 'slavery days,' the igno- 
rance, the degradation, the unrest, the rebellious feelin's 



ANDERSON IIIXON'S ESCAPE. 27 

that made a runaway shoot hisself rather than be taken 
back ; then the prayers our peoples prayed toe God, an' 
how he seemed to have no mercy ; the lies we had toe 
tell toe escape the lash, an' the stealin' we had toe d<> 
toe keep from starvin', when it might have been better 
toe have starved." 

Delsie stopped. Another fiery snake leaped from the 
clouds. Another prolonged roar broke the stillness. 
Delsie thrust her hand out into the night ; there was 
no ram upon it. 

She went on : "I remembers the day when the word 
came, that word that made free men an' women of our 
black peoples. I remembers that day well, when them 
black men an' women an' lil' chillun were a-crowdin' 
roun' each other, an' cryin' fo' joy, an' a-shoutin': ' We's 
free, we's free ! Glory ! glory ! We's free, we's free ! ' 
An' I sees the massas a-scowliu', some of them as pale 
as death. I hears them cussiu' mad, so mad that they 
cannot bear it, an' go and shoot themselves like cowards. 
An' I sees mo' miseries au' still mo' after that free 
word comes; the black peoples tryin' toe escape toe 
the North ; women an' lil' chillun sufferin', as if God 
had forgotten them; then better days begin toe come, 
a light begins toe shine, an' the peoples up North say 
the black man mus' learn toe read an' write, an' they 
send teachers toe us, an' we begins to learn 'bout things. 
Then they say again up North, ' The black man mus' 



28 IN FREE AMERICA. 

have the right toe vote,' an' they give him that right. 
An' I remembers when Hixon voted for the first time, 
how feared he felt fo' hisself. I remembers well my 
marryin' Hixon, an' Ellen's comin' the next year, my 
first-born; then the two the Lord tooks, and after that 
my boy, my Anderson, such a handsome boy, favorin' 
his father. Anderson's free to go to school. An' I said, 
' He shall learn everything that the white boys learn, 
an' shame his mother, who will work an' wash fo' his 
learnin'.' I remembers how those white boys laughed 
at him, an' called him a ' black nigger puttin' on airs ' ; 
how they set on him, caught him an' beat him till he 
cried, an' one of them said — him that hated Anderson 
'cause Anderson turned on him an' struck him in the 
face — that he'd see him lynched some day. Nobody 
tooks my boy's part but the colored peoples, an' they 
didn't dare show their feelin's. 

" One day came when Anderson was arrested for 
making love, they said, toe a white girl. How I laughed 
at that, — my Anderson boy making love ; my baby, 
him only sixteen year. But the officers came an' took 
him, fo' he was accused of breakin' the law, they said. 
The white girl swore against him ; an' him that hated 
my boy 'cause he wanted a schoolin' like the white 
folks had, swore toe, but there was them that knew 
mo', an' they tole their story, an' proved that Ander- 
son was not guilty, fo' lie was not there where the girl 



ANDERSON IIIXON'S ESCAPE. 29 

said lie was. They showed whats they calls an ' alibi.' 
Fo' three days the Court sat a-tryin' that case of Ander- 
son's, tryin' hard toe prove him guilty, but the evidence 
couldn't convict him, an' they had toe let him go free. 
' Not guilty,' said the Court on that third day. All the 
colored peoples believed it, an' some of the white folks 
toe. I believed it befo' the Court said so, fo' I believed 
in my boy." 

Delsie stopped. Was there not a murmur of voices 
down the road ? She brushed the mosquitoes from her 
arms and listened. From the bed came the heavy 
breathing of her husband ; across the fields she heard 
the plaint of a mourning dove. " Some peoples goin' 
home from meetin'," said she reassuringly. She sniffed 
the air ecstatically. " The jessmin am powerful toe- 
night." Again came the murmur of voices. 

At that moment the black night lifted ; a white fire 
ran over the heavens, and in the lurid light she saw- 
men fumbling at the locked gate. She heard an path 
from a thick voice, and the blow of an axe. Delsie 
sprang from the window to the bedside of her sleeping 
husband. " Hixon," she cried, " awake ! awake ! There's 
enemies at the do'." 

Hixon turned heavily, muttering that it was the 
thunder she heard. 

A second blow rang through the house like a chal- 
lenge. 



30 IN FREE AMERICA. 

Hixon sprang from his bed and into his clothes, cry- 
ing, " Who am yo', an' what yo' want ? " 

" We want to see Anderson at the door," was the 
response. 

" Anderson's sleepin'," said his father. " Tells me yo' 
business with him." 

" To hell with his sleeping ; it's Anderson we'll see 
or "— 

1 >elsie threw herself before the bedside of her boy, 
who was awake and trembling. 

" Save my chile," cried she. " Papa, save my chile ! 
Boan' open the do', but shoot, shoot !" 

HLxon grasped bis riile, thrust it through the win- 
dow into the darkness, and called out: 

" I knows yo' an' what yo's wants, an' I say in the 
name of the law, go away or I'll shoot ! " 

Instantly there was another blow, a noise of splin- 
tering wood. As the door fell, Hixon's rifle blazed ; a 
sharp report, then came a sound of a smothered groan 
from the yard below. The rain began to fall, rattling 
over the roof like bullets. Again the night lifted, and 
by the light of the blazing sky Delsie caught sight of 
a group .if men going slowly through the gate carry- 
ing something heavy between them. In the morning 
where the sunshine fell hot upon the sand, Delsie found 
a huge can well filled with kerosene oil, a coil of rope 
and a sack of wood. 



i ANDERSON HIXON'S ESCAPE. :)] 

Some weeks after the affair, a physician's carriage 
was seen daily going in the direction of an unoccupied 
house in an obscure part of the city ; while a prominent 
citizen of the place was suddenly called away from 
I ic. 

Today in Red City there lives a man with a lame 
leg. If you question him as to the cause of his infirm- 
ity you will receive no reply. DelsieHixon knows the 
cause, but she is as silent as her husband ; but both 
will cautiously tell to a friend the story of their Ander- 
son's escape from death by holocaust. 



The Abolitionist's Daughter. 

i i r T"MIEY have to be dealt with like children." 

1 The speaker was a pretty woman with a sad 
mouth. She stood under an oleander-tree, dark-eyed 
and i lark-haired, the scarlet blossoms against her white 
cheek. 

" My father was a Boston Abolitionist, and I " — 
throwing up her chin — " was born in Boston. But one 
must live a long time here at the South to know what 
is best for the colored race. One should be among 
them to study their needs. 1 have been in Florida 
nearly ten years, and don't know yet what is best. 
Sometimes I think the right of franchise is detrimental 
to them and the State ; but there is one thing true : 
they must be treated as children, for they are nothing 
else." 

My companion laughed a low, incredulous laugh. 
We had come out from Bed City a few miles. It was 
very hot, and our pony's sides were working like a pair 
of bellows. We had missed our way, leaving the 
"shell road" at the wrong place, and the little mare 
had pulled hard through the deep sand. 

" She must rest," said our hostess, " beneath the 
umbrella-tree, while you come in and lunch with me." 

" Let us visit here in the shade," urged my com- 
panion politely, "and not trouble you." 



.",1 IN FREE AMERICA. 

"It is no trouble, and it is cooler inside," she replied. 
" And you need refreshment after so long a ride." 

She led the way, as she spoke, past the red oleanders, 
up to a wide veranda, where, in a hammock, a yellow- 
haired baby slept. 

" Mine," said she ; then with a sad droop of her 
under lip, "it's father is not at home." 

The room we entered was an artistic one. I should 
have known a Northern hand had arranged it. It was 
long, and had a dark, polished floor ; there was a piano 
at one end. A folding screen, embroidered in quaint 
Chinese designs, stood near. Half hidden by the screen 
was a pretty tea-table with its ensemble of dainty 
china. From the tinted walls hung some bright water 
colors. There was a most inviting lounge^ some cane 
rockers and an antique table for books. I took up the 
An ita, noticed the Boston Transcript, while the little 
lady made tea and talked to us. 

A cool breeze stirred the lace curtains at the windows ; 
the odor of the oleanders pervaded the room. 

" I have a colored lad working for me," she said ; " a 
very bright boy. I teach him leading and arithmetic ; 
he is very fond of the latter — something rare, you 
know, for the negro to take to mathematics." 

" Then they are teachable ? " asked my companion 
somewhat ironically. 

" A few of them," she replied. " I cannot say many, 



THE ABOLITIONISTS DAUGHTER. 35 

for it would not be true. Their right to vote they 
abuse terribly." 

"How so?" queried my companion. 

" Their votes they sell, for money if they cau ; if not, 
for liquors, or maybe a stick of candy." 

" Then there are buyers of votes ? " 

"t)h, of course!" she replied. "There are office- 
seekers, men of ability, who know that if they do not 
buy the colored vote a rival candidate will, and it is 
safer than intimidation." 

" If that be true, what virtue does the white politician 
have that the black has not ? Is the buyer better than 
the seller ? " 

" Oh, it is not virtue we talk of ; it is a matter of intel- 
ligence. Cannot a man be a statesman, fitted to control 
men and national affairs, and yet have not morals?" 
said she. " The colored man is a child in politics ; he 
has not the education for the right use of the ballot." 

" You mean," said my friend, " that he is not smart 
enough to cope with the vote-buyers and vote-stealers." 

« Well — hardly that," she replied. " Rut it takes 
brains to run a State, and the colored voters here are 
very ignorant." 

" Why not teach them ? " 

" We are teaching them. Our colored schools are 
full and running over." 

u I mean teach them honest politics." 



36 IN FREE AMERICA. 

" No, no," she replied hastily. " The whites are the 
rulers, and must lie so always." 

" By virtue of what? " 

"By virtue of their superior intellects," said she 
decidedly. 

"I have observed," said he, " that the workers here 
arc mainly colored. The colored women labor at the 
washtub, iron, cook and scrub, send their little ones to 
school clean and neatly clad. The colored men work 
in the woods, cut and haul wood, plough the land, have 
care of the orange groves, in fact do much of the 
responsible work of the place, and yet you would ' treat 
them like children.' Did not Wendell Phillips urge 
that ' to ripen, lift and educate a, man is the first duty ' V 

" Yes, I know," she replied quickly. " But the white 
race must be the rulers." 

" The blacks," said lie, " do not wish to rule. What 
they ask is opportunity to make a living by their several 
capabilities ; to have their rights sustained by law and 
public opinion; to have justice done them." 

The Abolitionist's daughter shook her head. " It is 
a great problem to solve, and I want nothing to do 
with it." 

My companion smiled pleasantly and arose. 

- Before you leave," said our hostess vivaciously, " I 
would show you my incubator. 1 am a chicken-raiser. 
1 have just commenced the business, and am looking 



THE ABOLITIONIST'S DAUGHTER. 37 

forward to great results from my work. You perceive 
1 am close to the St. John's River, and ran easily ship 
my spring poultry to the Northern markets. And then 
this white Florida sand is excellent for young chicks 
to run in." 

As we turned away from the lively feather-balls, just 
picking their way into the light, leaving the pretty 
woman among them and her oleanders, I made the 
following observation to my friend : 

•• That lady owns that place. She lives there with 
her baby and a sister. The latter is a teacher of a 
kindergarten school in Red City. Her pupils are the 
children of the ' best families.' " 

My friend touched the pony with the whip. 

" Alas," said he, " for a State where the lips of its 
people are sealed against crime ! " 



The Shooting of the Deputy. 

1WAS told the following story by an ex-Federal 
soldier, who had been " dying for thirty years " 
from a wound received at the Battle of Bull Run. lb' 
was a citizen of Red City at the time, and knew all the 
ins and outs of its social and political life. 

One day we had been talking of the best place to 
buy groceries, when I said a neighbor of mine, a Texan 
cjentleman, had advised me to trade at the store of 
Louis Hertz, a grocer on the " Boulevard." 

The sick man laughed and said : " That is the worst 
place in the city. Hertz is a ' fire-eater ' from South 
Carolina, and sells nothing but rum and kerosene oil." 

" Rum ? " I questioned incredulously. " Has not Red 
City a prohibitory law ? " 

" Yes," said he, " but what is law worth in Florida ? 
And besides that, Hertz shot a man last year, ami 
instead of the court hanging him as it ought, he was 
given a mock trial and acquitted, and is now sheriff 
of the county. He was deputy at the time of the 
murder." 

I was interested. Here was more proof of that 
disregard for law and order for which, alas ! Florida is 
notoriously noted ; and I invited the ex-soldier to step 
into the porch and tell me what he knew in regard to 

39 



40 IN FREE AMERICA. 

the affair. Readily assenting, lie feebly crawled up the 
flight of steps and sat down beneath the vine. I gave 
him a robe to wrap about him. It was a siuiay Feb- 
ruary day, but there was a chill in the light breeze. 
All about us hung the yellow jasmine, its perfume 
enchanting, intoxicating. The soldier pointed to the 
beautiful, trumpet-like bloom, his weary countenance 
lighting. 

" You don't see that beauty north in winter ? That's 
one of Florida's charms." 

'Hum crossing his slim legs he gave a hollow cough 
and 1 legan : 

"It was Emancipation Day of the year 189. r i, and 
the colored people of the city were to celebrate it by 

a picnic at Lake H . Deputy Sheriff Hertz was 

detailed to go over with them to see that good order 
was kept, no outrages committed, and so on. There was 
another deputy sent to assist him in his work. Not 
the best of good-will existed between the two young 
deputies. I mean, rather, that Deputy Hertz was very 
jealous of bis rights and would allow no interference 
from his associate, who was a very peaceable sort of a 
man, with, some people said, a suspicion of colored blood 
in his veins; but of the truth of that I know no more 
than you. His looks were decidedly those 'of a white 
man. There was a story that some of his ancestors 
were slaves up in Louisiana, ami that may have been 
the reason of the hot Carolinian's opposition to him." 



THE SHOOTING OF I'lII-: DEPUTY. 11 

Mr. B stopped and wrapped his robe closer 

around him. 

"The first day of January, (he day of the picnic, 
was warm and pleasant, and 1 thought 1 would go over 
with the excursionists, just for the fun of the thing. 1 
don't love the colored people any too well, but thej 
generally have a jolly time at their picnics, and it 
cheers a sick man to see happy faces about him. 
Usually the colored people that 1 have met have no 
appreciation of the Federal soldiers' service to them, 
for all we brought them their liberty." 

"But did you, Mr. B , enlist that the blacks 

might be free?" I observed. 

■ "No; I enlisted and fought to save the Union, noth- 
ing else; I never took much thought for the slave. 
New Hampshire is a long way from South Carolina, 
y< m remember." 

" And New Hampshire Democrats ? " began I. 

" No, no," said he quickly. " I was always a Repub- 
lican, but not an Abolitionist. But to my story, before 
I get exhausted. I took the car that carried the two 
young deputies. The colored people were very happy. 
Some of them had been slaves, and they felt the dig- 
nity of the occasion. But the young element, who are 
as careless of what has been done for them by us 
Northerners as they are lazy, were for an eating and 
foolSns time." 



42 IN FREE AMERICA. 

"Tims proving their appreciation of their liberty," 
I interrupted. 

" Well, maybe," replied he. " I liked it well enough 
that day, for, as I said, I went over to see fun. < >ld 
Mother Jackson was there. You may have seen her ; 
she is past eighty ; was a slave nearly fifty years. She 
hardly gets enough to eat these days, but that doesn't 
trouble her ; for to be free is her happiness. As she 
sat there near the deputies, the tears rolling over her 
black cheeks, she began crooning a melody, in which I 
could catch the words: ' Bress de Lawd ! Bress de 
Lawd ! Fse a free black woman. I'se a free black 
woman by Massa Linkum's word, an' I'se gwine up 
to heaben a-leanin' on dat word. Bress de Lawd ! ' 
There were not many there so really happy as Mother 
Jackson. Most of the crowd were young men and 
women, and there was the usual flirting and loud 
laughter. 

" Outside it was a perfect day. The sky was like 
sapphire. The breeze, soothing as a lullaby, brought 
the fragrance of the oranges through the open win- 
dows. The groves were a beautiful sight. The lus- 
cious fruit, shining like gold balls through the green 
waxy leaves of the trees, was as tempting as that in 
the First Garden. 

"Within the car Deputy Hertz sat watching the 
darkies, his young face sullen, his small eyes eager. 



THE SBOOTING OF THE DEPUTY. 43 

One colored chap was getting pretty lively. He had 
a bottle in his pocket, and had already taken a Dumber 
of good drinks from it, perhaps nothing to hurt, only 
to make him talk the louder. He had a great deal to 
say about his freedom and Abraham Lincoln, as if that 
immortal man was a personal friend. I hardly think 
his bravado about himself was so objectionable to 
Hertz as was the name of Lincoln. Perhaps you don't 

know, Miss W , that today in Florida the name of 

Abraham Lincoln is as badly hated as at any time 
during the war or after. In the colored schools the 
children are not taught one word about him, — the 
black teachers don't dare, I expect, — and I have failed 
tu find a colored child under twelve years that is aide 
to answer ' yes ' when I ask them if they ever heard of 
President Lincoln. Maybe there are parents who teach 
their children, but in the schools that great name is 
never mentioned. So, as I said, I think the lively 
mulatto's talk about Lincoln — though he, I doubt, 
really knew what Lincoln did — maddened Hertz, who 
knew just what he did; and when the young fellow 
put his arm around the waist of his companion, a 
buxom colored girl, Hertz stepped forward and laid 
his hand on him. Of course the fellow resisted. Then 
Hertz, who is a small man, tried to arrest him, but the 
'darky ' was not to be arrested, and showed right. The 
other deputy, seeing Hertz's trouble, came up to help, 



44 fW FREE AMERICA. 

and lie laid his hand on the disturber of the peace in 
an authoritative way. That raised Hertz's ire to mad- 
ness, and he cried out to leave the ' nigger ' to him. The 
older deputy dropped his hand, hut said he claimed a 
right to assist his brother officer in keeping the peace. 

" Louis Hertz's black eyes flamed, a terrible oath fell 
from his lips. ' This is my business !' he cried. 'This 
nigger is my property.' The older deputy said nothing 
more, hut inadvertently put his right hand behind him. 
I suppose Hertz saw the movement and interpreted 
it to his liking. Instantly lie raised his revolver and 
fired. It was a good shot, well aimed. The deputy 
littered a loud cry, threw up his hands and fell to the 
floor dead. Immediately lamentations went up from 
the colored folks. Some of them dropped on to their 
knees and began praying ; some cursed ; others lied in 
terror to the rear car. I went out to find the con- 
ductor, who at once reversed the engine, and we hacked 
slowly into Red City. Deputy Hertz was handcuffed, 
and placed in the custody of the conductor. The dead 
deputy still lay upon the floor, the blood oozing from 
the wound. A dark pool had spread to Mother Jack- 
son's feet. She saw it. Her black eyes dilated. She 
arose to her grand height, extended her right arm 
menacingly towards Hertz, and with her left hand 
pointing to the dead man, wailed forth: 

"'Woe is me now! Fo' my soul is wearied because 



THE SHOOTING OF THE DEPUTY. 45 

ol> murders. Fo' dis shall 'de earth mourn an' de 
heabens above lie black. A wonderful an' horrible 
thing is committed in do land. Thus saith do Laud: 
Behole mine anger an' my fury shall he po'ed out upon 

dis place. De blood oh dy kin shall he spilled because 
oh dis. Shall 1 not visit dem fo' dose things? Shall 
not my soul he avenged ?' 

"Hertz's face paled under the anathema, hut he kept 
quiet, his eyes and ears alert. On arriving at the sta- 
tion, he was handed over to the authorities. 

"The news of the murder spread quickly through 
the city, and great indignation was expressed that 
Hertz was in jail. 

"That night bail was offered hy his friends, and 
although in Northern States it would probably he a 
case (if murder in the first degree, it was accepted, and 
the deputy went hack to selling rum and kerosene nil 
until the time of his trial in April. 

" Great heavens ! what a farce that trial was ! Tt. 
lasted but a few hours. The darkies who saw the kill- 
ing were brought forward as witnesses. Some of them 
were brought up and lied easily, said ' dey saw nuffin'.' 
Mother Jackson was put on the stand, and took heT 
oath that Hertz shot his brother deputy without provo- 
cation, ' jes' cos he forgots hisself and de Lawd.' 

"I suppose my testimony that I saw the dead man 
put Ins right hand behind him — you see 1 was ques- 



46 IN FREE AMERICA. 

tinned closely on that — cleared Hertz, but I had to do 
it. I told tin; court there was no threat made by the 
older deputy against Hertz, m> revolver drawn, nothing 
in fact to prove that Hertz had to shoot in self-defence. 

" Hertz was allowed to talk, and he claimed he had 
to draw his revolver on his associate to preserve his 
own life; but nothing was proven, only that the, dead 
iiun, put his right hand behind trim, but that meant 
thnt In- was about tu draw his revolver, therefore the 
prisoner was obliged to shoot his associate to save his 
own life. 

" It was a clear case of self-defence, so said the Court, 
and Louis Hertz was pronounced a free man by its 
decision, in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and 
ninety-five. 

"Now, Miss W , what do you think of that for 

American justice ?" 

The old soldier was out of breath ; his voice was 
hoarse. He gave a rattling cough. The next moment 
he laughed good-naturedly. I expressed my surprise 
that be could laugh over so serious an affair. His 
sallow face wrinkled in a smile. 

" I have lived here ten years, you remember ; you 
only two months; you will get accustomed to things of 
this sort after a while, and not be disturbed." 

"Then I better trade at Louis Hertz's store?" I in- 
quired, with a suspicion of scorn in my voice. 



THE SHOOTING OF THE DEPUTY. 17 

"Oh, yes," drawled my friend hesitatingly, "if you 
can find there what you want. But"- - ho leaned 
forward to me impressively — " keep your old Abolition 
ideas to yourself; don't talk aloud of the colored peoph 
and justice. It won't do. There are Northerners here, 
and many of them find Florida an excellent State 
in which to live. They enjoy the climate and keep 
quiet." 

" And don't dare put their right hand behind them 
in company ? " said I. 

" No," said he with another smile ; " that's not quite 
safe in Florida." 

Mr. B arose ; tired and haggard he looked in the 

yellow sunshine. He plucked a bloom from the jas- 
mine vine, stuck it in his buttonhole, touched his wide 
sombrero to me, and limped slowly out of the yard. 

NEMESIS. 

A posse of armed men encircling a mean log house 
on the edge of a Southern " hammock." A hoimded 
man, with murder written on his black face, at bay 
against the wrecked door, a revolver in his hand. Hot 
mists arising from the dank soil enveloping them. A 
tropical sun shattering rainbows against the mists. The 
sheriff of the county, one Carl Hertz, stepping forward 
and crying boldly : " Up with your arms in the name 
of the law ! " The hounded man triumphantly thrust- 



48 / V FREE AMERICA. 

ing forth his hand. A flash of fire, a report, and the 
sheriff of the county dead, slain' by a negro. Uncon- 
querable, the black hand turned upon itself. A spark 
of lire, areport, the hounded man dead, slain by himself. 

Such was the picture Red City produced six months 
after the " Shooting of the Deputy." 

" In that murder," said a Northern man, " the law of 
Nemesis was strangely emphasized." 



Slavery, 1900. 



AM I LE team carrying some dozen or more hard- 
visaged Mark men, and one white or, rather, 
yellow-faced "cracker," who wore a wide-brimmed hat, 
and had revolvers stuck in his belt, was in the habit 
of passing my house, going north every morning and 
returning to the city about sunset. At first I took but 
little notice of it. I heard the creak of the wagon 
wheels and the driver's "Gwa long" to the lazy mules. 
I saw the black faces, and supposed they were colored 
help working on some orange grove outside the city. 

One night, about six o'clock, I went down to the 
fence that divided the "shell road" from my rented 
estate. The evening was a warm one in April. The 
magnolia-trees were in bud, and as I lingered to find 
a sweet bloom unfolding, I caught the familiar " Gwa 
long," and looked up. It was the every-day mule team 
with its cargo of men; but being nearer I now saw 
what before I could not see from the piazza of the house. 
I saw that the colored men were chained together, the 
driver being the only one left free. I saw that the 
"cracker," who had a face like unto Simon Legree's, 
carried, besides the revolvers, a Winchester rifle, the 
latter lying beside him, close to his hand. Most, of 
the men were sullen-looking, and turned not their heads 



50 IN FREE AMERICA. 

to right or left. The overseer — for such he seemed to 
be — stared boldly and made a remark, probably jocose, 
for it caused the driver to show his white teeth for a 
moment. I stood watching them, puzzled, until the 
mules turned slowly into the street leading to the jail ; 
then I exclaimed, " Convicts ! The convict team ! " 

1 1 was with greater interest, though saddened, that I 
saw them pass the next evening, and many evenings 
after. Sometimes there would be a lank bloodhound 
following behind the team. 

One day, with a companion, I drove into the city. 
We passed the University, a beautiful brick building 
with palmetto trees bordering its green lawn, and 
stopped just beyond at a store. A deep trench had 
been dug at one side of the road for the purpose of 
laying water-pipes. While my friend traded I looked 
over the men at work in the trench. They were maiidy 
colored, some twenty or so, both young and old ; they 
had heavy faces, and some looked decidedly vicious. 
They did not work with any degree of energy or inter- 
est, but tossed up the soil in a careless, lazy way, as if 
it were nothing to them how much or how little they 

did. A Mr. L , once a Massachusetts man, stood 

by ; I knew him to be superintendent of roads, and I 
supposed he was the overseer of the black diggers. 
I spoke to him, asking if he hired those men, and 
remarked on their laziness. The man smiled broadly, 



SLAVERY, 1900. 51 

and said in an undertone: "Convict labor is usually not 
of the best." 

My companion appearing at this point we drove on. 

" Leave me at Mr. B s," I said ; " 1 have some- 
thing to know before going North." I found the old 
soldier at work carving paper-cutters from orangewood. 
lie shook his head pleasantly at sight of me. I knew 
he recognized my eager looks and deprecated my per- 
sistency. " What's in the wind now ?" he drawled. 

" L have come down to be told more about Florida's 
prison system," I said ; " I wish to know all." 

" How much do you know I " said he. 

"Not much," 1 replied. "I have asked my neigh- 
bors, but 1 find they know but little more. Every day 
since I came to the city I have seen that mule team 
with its load of prisoners pass and repass my house. 
Some of the men are chained together, and most of 
them are black. Once I saw a load of white convicts. 
I thought they were ' crackers,' or tramps. There are 
bloodhounds, too, following on." 

•• Well, what of that ?" said my friend, throwing a 
haudful of cuttings into the fireplace. " Is it not pleas- 
anter, for ineii sentenced to imprisonment, to work in 
the fields, rather than he shut up this [\\w, weather?" 

•• As I came down this morning," I said, ignoring his 
pertinent query, " I saw convicts down in a trench dig- 
ging. I knew the superintendent of roads, and spoke 
to him, but he was not the guard of those men ?" 



52 IN FREE AMERICA. 

" No," said Mr. B , " they are under the jail 

guard of Volusia County; they work in handy in keep- 
ing the roads in repair. That Massachusetts man is 
only overseeing the work." 

" And what of those men that are carried every day 
out of the city and brought back every night ? " 

"All prisoners in the county jail serving their lawful 
sentence," said the old soldier. 

" Lawful ! " 1 said scornfully. 

"They, too, are at work on the roads," continued he. 

" Under that ' Simon Legree ' cracker ? " 

" Yes, if you put it so." 

" And if those men get fatigued, lose interest in their 
labor, and give signs of discontent 1" asked I. 
' "They are whipped In it," said he coolly. 

" And if they ' kick ' against that ?" 

" Shut ! " replied Mr. I) , with a. shrug of his 

shoulders. 

" And no questions asked ? " said I. 

" No questions asked," said he. 

" Arc there no prisoners in the jails or penitentiaries 
of Florida?" I asked. 

" Very few are kept inside," replied he. 

" 1 have been told that, tl eir labor is sold to contract- 
ors to work in the phosphate mines, and that the con- 
tractors are given full power over the men ; can whip, 
torture, punish in any form, and if they chose, hill, and 
the Sl<ilr makes no complaint. Is this true?" 



SLA VERY, 1900 53 

<■ You have been told tJie t-ndh, Miss \V . The 

State has no right to inter hue with any contractor after 
it has sold him the control of a prisoner." 

- And I have also heard," I said, "that these phos- 
phate mines are deadly to life, and a man can stand 
working in them hut a short time." 

" Perhaps so," said Mr. B ■ smilingly ; " I have 

never been inside of them." 

" Now is this true," I continued earnestly, " that 
there were six negroes sent to the penitentiary for life 
last year for shooting a young colored man here in Red 
City, and those men were sold for ten dollars apiece to 
go into the mines to work as long as they could stand 
it, and the buyer, whom you call contractor,' holds full 
ci 'iitrol over them as long as he wishes — can hill them 
if he chooses." 

" That is the truth." 

lie shut up his jackknife as he spoke, tossed more 
cuttings into the fireplace, arose and looked at me. 

"I'on't <ret too earnest over these things. Remem- 
her what I told you the other day. You came here for 
your health; you acknowledge our climate is charm- 
ing ; make the most of it. We all know that Florida's 
prison system is a barbarous one. There are many 
barbarous things in this world. Florida will work out 
of it iu time, don't be in fear she won't." 

" As I came down on the train," I said, " I saw a 



54 IN FREE AMERICA. 

gang of men at work in a field ; they all had iron halls 
attached to their legs, and their clothes were striped, 
the stripes running round their bodies, the same as a 
circus clown. There was a driver, or you would say 
an overseer, carrying a long whip in his hand, and 
bloodhounds were jumping about." 

" I see you are not to be stopped," said Mr. B , 

going to the door and politely opening it. " I am a 
little tired today. Suppose we take a walk aud find 
some magnolia blooms." 

" There are none out ! " I cried ; " I hunted last 
evening." 

" Then we'll go for cape jasmines, something delight- 
ful and fragrant." 

" Ah, my friend, you will persist in shirking your 
duty." 

" Duty ! " said the old soldier, searching for his hat. 

"Yes, your duty in not doing what you can to help 
change this awful system which is a disgrace not only 
to Florida, but to America. Why, it would not be tol- 
erated a day in a Northern State." 

" I know that, Miss W , I know all that, but, as 

I have told you before, Northern men have to be quite 
cautious what they say and do in Florida against popu- 
lar opinion." 

" Of course to be popular," I broke in, " but why not 
do what is right and be unpopular ? Again, one-half 



SLAVERY, 1U00. 55 

of this city is made up of Northern people, who, if thej 
wished, could be of great influence in polities and 
morality." 

"They are of great influence," laughed Mr. B —, 
■• sometimes unpleasantly so. The most influential man 
here is a Northerner, a manufacturer in Pennsylvania, 
and he takes great interest in the politics of the State, 
particularly of this city ; so much that he buys up the 
colored vote in order to strengthen his party at the 
polls." 

" If all men and women from the North," said I, 
"were as loyal to themselves and their country as they 
claim they were before coming here to locate, Florida 
would have better and purer politics than it has today. 
I know a dozen men from Massachusetts who have told 
me they never vote here. I have to think they take 
no interest in anything but the price of oranges." 

" Very likely," drawled my friend ; " possibly the 
climate makes us lazy in these matters." 

" But you need not turn 'fire-eater' because of the 
climate. Buy up the negro vote, and if that is impos- 
sible always (for it is, as I know many of the colored 
men are true), count out their votes. And it's not 
only climatic apathy that makes the Northerners what 
they are," I continued ; " it is because they are afraid. 
They are cowards, most of them, and caste holds them; 
so they run down the colored man, cheat him out of 



56 IN FREE AMERICA. 

his rights as a citizen, tar and feather him, shoot him, 
and ignore him socially, in order to gain the respect of 
the ' pure Floridian.'" 

"Bah! The North should keep its 'clackers' at 
home." 

We were by this time far up the street, the old sol- 
dier bland and undisturbed. We lingered at the gate 
of my house. A banana-bush was growing there; beau- 
tifully pink it looked in the brilliant sunshine. 

" Sweeter than honey," I said, breaking a dozen 
blooms from the stalk and placing them in his pale 
hands. " Take them and crush them, and you'll have 
sweetness unqualified for the rest of the day." 

"I am thinking," he said abstractedly, "about that 
abominable prison system, for it is abominable, I ac- 
knowledge." 

" And it must be changed," I said. " Public- senti- 
ment must be changed and aroused, and it is to the 
Northern settler you must look for help." 

" I am afraid," said the old soldier quizzically," that 
the Northern settler is too much settled to change his 
opinions easily." 

" lint, punning aside, do you not love Florida, Mr. 

B , and is not her disgrace yours and every true 

American's ? " 

"Yes, I love Florida," said he seriously, "and her 
disgrace is mine and every loyal American's, but," play- 



SLA VERY, WOO. 



fully, " is not this a warm day, Miss W — ? The sun 
is too hot for you here; urfder that umbrella-tree ii is 
cool and delightful; swing your hammock there and 
dream." 

"1 will!" T cried, "and dream of that day when 
Florida shall be redeemed from its unjust laws, its 
ignorance and sin." 

My friend touched his hat and was gone. 



The Tim Peters Tragedy. 

ONE day in May of the year 1896, at the corner 
of Lee and Jackson streets, where the sun beat 
fiercely, and the reflection from the white sand burned 
and blistered, a group of angry negroes had gathered to 

talk over the murder of Tim Peters. There were g 1- 

looking mulattoes among them, with straight, fair hair; 
thi re were octoroons with creamy skins and lips as 
thin as any pure Floridian's, and there were coarse 
black teamsters, with oaths upon their lips, from the 
logging camps in the pine woods. All were wildly 
talking and gesticulating. From the great heat I 
sought shelter heneath a magnolia-tree to listen. 

"By G — d," said a thick-lipped African, "look at 
dar," baring an iron muscle; "dar's what'll gib us jus- 
tice. We'll rise and fight, and if neces'ry, burn de city." 

" Yes, burn de city ! " cried a young mulatto, quickly 
catching at the other's words, " burn de city, norf and 
souf, and let de white lynchers tas' oh fire." 

"Be still, you idiots!" sneered a handsome octoroon. 
"I reckon .you forget yourselves, talking about burning 
the city. Don't you know that we would be shot be- 
fore the work was half done? The whites, you must 
remember, command troops. We blacks can do noth- 
ing desperate. We must appeal to the government 

59 



GO IN FllEE AMERICA. 

at Washington, to the law of the United States for 
justice." 

" To' God, Joe Elliot," exclaimed the sweating team- 
ster, " yo's as lofty in yo' words as yo' white father, de 
cotton planter. Fo'gits ourselves ! Nebher ! Habn't we 
our Wiii-'//c.sters, an' de axes behind de do's, an' de 
right on our side ? I say we's bar'd lung 'nuff wid shut 
lips and tied han's. Long 'nuff hab de black folks bin 
swung from de oak limb widout a trial. Long 'nuff 
hab dey bin drown in de ribber, burnt up in dar do'- 
yards, tarred an' feathered, insulted an' outraged right 
in de face ob dat cibil-rights law. An' now, by G — d, 
we'll hab justice dis time for de murder ob Tim Peters. 
To' Gml, we'll lynch de white cowards an' fotch 'em 
toe a mighty reckonin'." 

" Yo', Joe Elliot," drawled a sweet-voiced black in a 
Hash necktie and a brimless hat, "hab no relations toe 
Tim Peters. He war a nigger; yo' hab de white blood 
in yo' veins; yo' hab de complexion ob yo' cpiadroou 
mother, who war de slabe of yo' white father." 

The young octoroon paled at the coarse fling of the 
black. His gray eyes narrowed and «rew green. He 
made a bold step forward, flinging out a slender hand. 

" You have spoken the truth, Bill Williams, of my 
mother. She was the slave of the cotton planter, the 
compulsory slave of his Inst. But don't dare say I am 
not related to the black man; I am related, damnably 



Till-: TIM PETERS TRAGEDY. 61 

related ." Then, turning to the others, he cried hotly : 
" Ynii all know of my application for admittance to the 
University of this city, where Baptist missionaries are 
graduated to preach the gospel to the heathen, and the 
reply I received. The faculty were sorry, but the law 
of the State prevented the coeducation of blacks and 
whites. You all know that on the river steamers, where 
I pay the same as a white man, as you all are obliged 
to, 1 am lodged in the ' nigger ' quarters, and if I go on 
the upper deck for purer air, my attention is at once 
called to the card, 'Colored people not allowed on this 
deck.' And if by chance my looks deceive a stranger, 
some one who knows is always ready to tell. Not re- 
lated In thf black mini! Am I not prohibited from 
taking board at the hotels in this city and elsewhere in 
Florida ? Am I not prevented by the law of the State 
from marrying a white woman suited to my pride and 
character? Am 1 not ostracized by the white aristoc- 
racy of our city, ' Northern settlers ' most of them, from 
mingling with them socially, even though my education 
and character are equal to theirs? Not related to the 
black mult ! Can I serve as juryman in our courts, 
although an enfranchised citizen of the United States 
of America, a voter in this city, where one-half of the 
population are colored? Would I be allowed, if a 
lawyer or physician, to practise among the whites? 
Was there not a colored doctor in city, who but 



62 IN FREE AMERICA. 

last your was tarred and feathered and run from tlie 
(own because two Northern ladies chose to employ his 
medical skill ? The white preachers come to our 
churches to preach and pray for us. Do they ask a 
colored preacher to sit in their pulpits ? Have we no 
man worthy of such an honor? Love, charity and 
good-will to all mankind is maintained as the gospel 
of salvation. White missionaries are sent to enlighten 
and redeem the black man in Africa, but when a poor 
colored man here, like Tim Peters, whose father and 
mother were bought and sold like cattle, commits a 
misdemeanor which should have been settled by an 
honest court, these white Christians silently applaud 
the respectable mob which drags him from his home, 
and at night violently forces him into the river to die 
like a dog. Does the white man, the Northern settler, 
teach our colored women purity? Do the grocer, the 
druggist, the landowner, the hotel proprietor, by their 
virtue, prove their superiority to the ' ignorant black ' ? 
Are we children, or are we men and women in the 
sight of God ? Are we, or are we not, citizens of these 
United States ? The bill of civil rights puts the negro 
on the exact level with the white in respect to inns, 
juries, schools, churches, public conveyances and all 
civil privileges. With a thousand drops of my blood 
one black drop mingles. That black drop stigmatizes 
me 'colored.' That civil-rights law is for my protec- 



THE TIM PETERS TRAGEDY. 03 

tion ami yours and Tim Peters'. It is to Washington 
we must make our appeal for justice. To the law of 
the United States we must look for satisfaction." 

The crowd cheered faintly as the octoroon stopped 
speaking, their dark faces still looking angry and threat- 
ening. It was not just what they wanted. There were 
oaths and curses and cries for revenge for the murder 
of Tim l'eters. 

" I loan doe no wrong," quavered the voice of the old 
preacher, Amos Green At the beginning he had 
curled himself into a sooty ball under the magnolia, his 
knees drawn up to his chin. His skin hung in greasy 
black folds from his cheek bones. The sight of his 
right eye was swallowed up in a vicious cataract. The 
left was narrowed to a red slit. His nose was Hat, 
spongy and oily. His lips were loose, and wandered in 
a desultory way over his toothless gums. His clothes 
were coarse and ragged. Watching him, I thought of 
the song beginuiug " Pure and white and sinless," and 
wondered if this caricature of a man would blossom 
into such across the dark river. Then I remembered 
the eloquent words of "Mother" Jackson: "It hain't 
de color ob de skin, honey, dat tells de goodness. < »n 
de outside yo' may be black as de charcoal, but in de 
bosom dar am de whiteness ob dc snow. De skin am 
like de lily, but in de heart dar am de darkness ob" 
— stopping and dramatically pointing a dusky ringer 
into the depths of the fireplace — " dat." 



CI IN FREE AMERICA. 

" Doan doe no wrong," repeated the old preacher. 
"J)e Lord hab a pow'ful arm, an' he am de one toe 
punish de guilty. Doan doe no wrong, I sez. De 
Lord am pow'ful an' mighty." 

The old man's head dropped forward on his knees 
again. 

"Shut up de ole fellow's mouf !" cried the teamster 
roughly. "I reckon he be mighty sight worse dan de 
white preachers. Dey shuts our moufs by de rope, but 
dis shere ole blin' fool would hab us forgib dein fur 
a-doin' it." 

At this remark a hearty cheer went up from the 
crowd. Bill Williams swung his brimless hat until lie 
lost his balance and tumbled to the ground, where in 
due time he went to sleep. 

The gray eyes of the octoroon ran over the turbulent 
men. He knew this was but a Hash of emotion with 
most of them. The mass are lazy ; they are cowardly ; 
they are unpatriotic. That fiery teamster will swear 
himself hoarse, but he'll do nothing more desperate. 
Tomorrow Eed City's alarm will be allayed ; Tim 
Peters' murderers will again be selling groceries and 
dry-goods over the counter. 

"And that poor mother" — speaking aloud and 
pointing a slender linger at a swaying figure across the 
street, a woman walking up and down, heating the air 
with upraised hands — "and that poor mother!" he 




A TYPICAL FLORIDA GIRL. 



TIIl'J TIM PETERS TRAGEDY. 65 

repeated. I stopped to hear no more. I glided from 
beneath the magnolia-tree, L flew across the burning 
sand. I touched the woman's arm and shrank back 
ashamed. The look upon her face appalled me. 1 
saw her grief was her own. Her cries wen.' to God. 

"My boy! My boy ! My boy!" And again and 
again, "My boy! My boy! My boy!' Up and 
down, up and down, beating the air with upraised 
dusky hands, the mother went. 

I stepped softly into a store. < >n the counter a blue 
vase held a magnolia bloom; the fragrance of the 
flower pervaded the room. " Pure and white and sin- 
less," 1 murmured, when a harsh, drawling voice 
reached me from behind the counter: 

"These d niggers are rais'n' a h — 1 of a time 

over that fule of a Peters. Twar bin better tu have 
sent "em all tu h — 1 tu oust!" It was the voice and 
sentiment of a Florida " cracker." 

Down the pine-needle road, under the shade of the 
beautiful live oak, 1 went slowly. As I turned into 
the pines before my door a salt breeze from the sea, 
thirty miles away, touched my cheek, and 1 thought 
of my home and Boston, and thanked God for both. 



Hunting the Blind Tiger. 

MY landlady laughed good-naturedly when I asked 
" What is Hunting the Blind Tiger I " 

She was a good-looking woman, with pleasant dark 
eyes and careless, lazy ways; ahout forty years, 1 
should have said, and a "cracker." Si e said " shere " 
for here, and talked often and long ahout people hav- 
ing "an education." She said she "war born an' 
raised in Georgia, had married her Northern husband 
fchar. He hailed from Connecticut, but on coniin' 
South enlisted in the Confederate army, fought right 
smart 'gainst his own brother, who was under Sheri- 
dan. Her husband war a cunneL Long after the war 
she an' him came tu Red City, which war not much 
of a place then, an' opened a bar. They did mighty 
well till he got shot an' had tu have his arm toot off. 
'Twar in a row over politics. His health failed after 
that, an' when Bed City passed a prohibit'ry law he 
broke up sudden." 

"But what of the 'Blind Tiger'?" I interrupted 
impatiently. 

My landlady gave me a droll look, pointing a much- 
soiled finger at a big, round bole in the floor, where a 
slim stovepipe reared itself, like a black sentinel, from 
the room below. "Did ye shear enything disturbin' 
las' night ? " 



68 / V FREE AMERICA. 

" Yes," I replied, " two cockroaches as long as my 
tinger rattled down from somewhere on to my bed." 

" Oh ! " she said scornfully, " I didn't mean sich. 
Through the stovepipe hole thar did ye shear a noise, 
a man's voice talkin' loud ? " 

" Yes," said I, " loud and thick." 

"Wall, I du reckon he had tu much liquor in las' 
night, an' I war 'fraid he'd disturb ye some. He allers 
stops shere when he comes tu the city. He war a 
friend of my husband's." 

" His business ? " I asked quietly. 

" Now ye didn't shear, did ye ? " she cried exultingly. 
" But I don't min' tellin' ye. He's a-' Huntin' the Blind 
Tiger.'" 

I turned in my bed to look from the window. 
Slowly through the placid blue depths above, a solitary 
buzzard is circling round and round, upward, higher 
and higher with every sweep of its sharp brown wings, 
until it is lost in the mystic light. Watching it 
dreamily, I said to my landlady : 

" Yankee though I am, I cannot solve the conun- 
drum, so please be kind and tell me what is the ' Blind 
Tiger.' " 

Again her brown eyes twinkled as she said : " Lor ! I 
reckon ye never shear'bout the ' Blind Tiger Murder'?" 

"Another murder!" I silently ejaculated. Then 
aloud, " No, I have not been here long." 



HUNT1 VG THE l: I.I xi> TIGER. 69 

"Wall, this shere murder happened only two year 
ago. Twar a right smart one tu. Six niggers shot an 
mformer." 

" Informer ? " I queried, puzzled. 

" Yas, a poor fool nigger who tole what he hain't no 
husiness tu." 

" What did he tell ? " I asked. 

"He tole whar the ' Blind Tiger' war," said she. 

I raised myself on my arm and looked at my land- 
lady straight. 

" I don't blame him," I began. " If I could find out, 
I would do the same." 

" Ye would, would ye ? " said she. " Wall, he got six 
Winchester bullets in him for tellin'. Would ye like 
that, tu?" 

" What I would like, Mrs. M , is this : that you 

tell me about the murder, beginning with an explana- 
tion of the mysterious ' Blind Tiger.' " 

My landlady perceived I was in earnest, and hitch- 
ing her small rocker closer to my bed, flattening as she 
came along, between her hard thumb-nails, an unmen- 
tionable bug that had suddenly appeared upon the 
quilt, began her story. I noticed her movement, and 
interrupted : 

N " I will not stop here another day after I get welL 
These vermin are awful." 

She laughed heartily at my wrath, and said : 



70 IN FREE AMERICA. 

" Ye'll have tu git used tu bugs. Florida is full of 
'em." 

Smothering a groan, I meekly motioned her to go 
on with the story. 

" Wall, this shere killin' took place jes' below shere, 
on Orange Street. Twar a dark night, an' that fool 
mformer war goin' home, skulkin' 'long as he orter, 
wlien six niggers jumped on him from behin' the trees. 
They surrounde 1 him, an' I reckon he wor a skeirt one, 
fur ye could shear him holler 'way down tu Duns- 
bottom. But them niggers' blood war up, an' they 
put them bullets intu him mighty quick. Six Win- 
chester bullets in one man ! 'Twar mighty certain 
that that man war killed stone dead." 

" I should say so," I replied. " But what had the 
colored man clone, that he should be waylaid on the 
streets and fnurdered ? " 

"I tole ye oust," said my landlady mildly. "He 
tole whar the ' Blind Tiger ' war hidin'." 

" Ah ! " I exclaimed, a light breaking in on my 
befogged imagination. " Illegal liquor selling." 

" Now ye have it," said she joyously. " I reckoned 
ye war smart 'nul'f to guess it." 

" Do the colored people drink heavily ? " I asked, 
ignoring her ecstasy over my smartness. 

" Ye may reckon they du. The niggers drink ' dead 
drunk,' the same as white folks, when they kin git the 
stuff." 



BUNTING Till-: BLIND TIGER. 71 

"And that murdered man informed the authorities 
of the places where liquors were being illegally sold ?" 

"Yes," said she. "He -///formed 'em, poor fool, an' 
I reckon he's settled well fur it. 'Tain't wise tu meddle 
with the ' Blind Tiger' shere." 

" And those murderers, those six ignorant, misled 
men, were hired, of course, by the 'Blind Tiger'?" 

" I reckon so sometimes, au' then agin 1 reckon not," 
said she honestly. "Niggers kin hate, an' kill whar 
they hates." 

"What did the State do with the murderers?" I 
inquired. 

•' Tried 'em shere in court an' give 'em a life sentence 
at hard labor, an' ye may reckon 'twill be hard." 

"All of them?" I said. 

" All six of 'em." 

" I thought that for such murders lynching was the 
punishment here at the South." 

"Wall, 'tis if 'tis whites what's 'saulted. But when 
'tis niggers as is murdered 'tis different." 

" Oh ! of course," said I. 

" An' then," she continued, " these men war mighty 
strong, an' them contractors knew it." 

"Ah! Now I remember those are the men that 
were sold to work in the phosphate mines. I know 
about their trial and. sentence, but did not know the 
crime of which the murdered man was accused." 



72 IN FREE AMERICA. 

" Wall," said my landlady emphatically, " ye know 
now he done 'nuff tn be killed. No man lias enny 
right to turn wiformer, but when 'tis niggers what does 
it, 'tis tu mean ter swaller." 

"Then you believe liquors should be sold even 
against the law ? " I observed. 

She' turned her soft brown eyes on me incredulously, 
still rocking with a lazy swing. 

" Now ye hain't one of them fool temperance women, 
air yer ? " said she. 

"Not a fool temperance woman, I hope, but a tem- 
perance woman, assuredly." 

"Wall, I'm jes' dummed that ye should be sich, with 
yer education ! " 

" That is why I am one, maybe," I replied, relishing 
her surprise. 

"Wall," said she pronouncedly, "I'll tell yer this: 
the ' Blind Tiger' hain't tu be driv' outer this city. 
He's a mighty smart feller, consideriu' his age, an' no 
Yank from Boston is goin' tu trap him. The educated 
people shere jes' adores him. They voted for prohibit'ry 
tu make the city stan' right smart 'fore the boarders 
which comes shere in winter, an' also tu keep the mo- . 
gers quiet. But," nodding her head significantly to me, 
" they jes' winks at the ' Blind Tiger.'" 

Here a crackling noise came from the wood-basket; 
my landlady stooped, picked out a fluttering cockroach, 



HUNTING THE BLIND TIGER. 73 

and gently dropped it onto the fire. I shuddered, men- 
tally vowing to go back to housekeeping as soon as I 
arose from my bed. She saw my grimace, and enjoyed 
it. 

" Never yer min' 'bout 'roaches ; they's as harmless 
as the big spiders which comes in summer, thems that 
runs round the rooms an' crawls from under yer pillar 
at nights." 

" How large ? " I exclaimed. 

" Twould take a bigger han' than yourn tu cover 
one," she loftily replied. 

At this point of our colloquy a yellow-haired beauty 
rushed into the room, crying: "Ma, that man's down- 
stairs." Then crossing to my bedside, she laid a Mare- 
chal Niel upon my pillow. 

" I jes' picked it," said she, " outer Gertie's garden 
under yer window." 

My landlady arose, shook her finger, half shut one 
of her brown eyes over her shoulder at me, and said : 
« Tis him what's huntin' the ' Blind Tiger.'" 



A Lynching Affair. 

SITTING on my porch in the glow of the setting 
sun, I saw my black domestic down below the 
palmettos, slowly coming home. A girl of seventeen, 
she walked with a long, awkward stride, her arms 
swinging limp at her sides. The sun shining aslant 
through the trees stretched her shadow strangely gro- 
tesque along the path. Bright-hued was the Bermuda 
grass before the house, bright with red and g< ild. Upi m 
the tops of the pine-trees the same red glory lay. A 
belated mocker whirred into the splendor, and dis- 
appeared into the darkening wood beyond. The girl 
came slowly on, and dropped heavily onto the steps. 

" You are early tonight, Sarah," said I. 

"I'se skeert to come later," she replied. 

" And you feel glad to get back ? " 

I knew she was homesick for a livelier place nearer 
the city's center. 

" My heart's jes' lead every times I gets inside the 
gate." 

" Ah, Sarah ! how true, for you always walk as if 
you carried something very heavy. But tell me of 
what you are afraid." 

" Ghosts," was her laconic reply. 

" There are no such things as ghosts." 

75 



76 IN FREE AMEBIC A. 

"Yessum, there bes. Brother sees 'em mos' every 
night." 

" IFow do they look?" I asked, much amused by 
her seriousness. 

" Like folks, only they doan' have no heads." 

" Oh ! " I exclaimed, " aren't you ashamed to believe 
such stories — a big girl like you ? You have not 
seen one, you know." 

" No ma'am, but I'se li'ble." 

" Sarah," said I emphatically, " your brother's imagi- 
nation is large, and he thinks he sees where he does 
not, and he enjoys telling you he sees ghosts, to frighten 
you." 

" No, ma'am," said she. " Brother's skeert hisself, 
an' comes in ruuiiiu' an' a-shakin' every dark night." 

" And you believe it is because he sees those head- 
less things you call ghosts ?" 

" I believes brother sees 'em," said she persistently, 
" an' I'se li'ble." 

Sarah's profile, with its long projecting jaw, was 
growing obscure in the evening light. The sun had 
dropped into its violet bed. The dry Bermuda grass, 
that was thick before the house, was no longer vermil- 
ion, but gray and common. A grosbeak building a 
nest in the jasmine vine was trilling its vesper song. 

" Ah ! is not that pretty music, Sarah ? " 

" It certainly am," said she in a far-off, stereotyped 
voice. 



.1 LYNCHING AFFAIR. 77 

" Still homesick, my girl ? " 

I knew she had not sensed my first question. She 
drew a heavy sigh. 

"I'se jes' a-thinkin' of the chill'n." 

I could see the whites of her big, solemn eves through 
the dusk, and I thought they looked wet. 

Immediately 1 spoke. " We will have our supper 
now. You may light up the house, make a fire, and 1 
will come in soon." 

1 lingered to watch the twilight deepen into night. 
I lingered to watch "silently one by one, in the infi- 
nite meadows of heaven, blossom the stars"; to hear 
the flutter of wings and soft love-notes of nesting birds, 
the skurrying of rabbits, the coming forth of sala- 
manders from their numerous holes in the sand. A 
screech and a whir of wings from an umbrella-tree 
startles me. 

" What is that bird, Sarah, that sits all day on the 
umbrella-tree, and at night flies off with a. screech into 
the wood ? " I say as I enter the lilt le kitchen. 

" Lib scritch owl," she replied. 

" Are they harmless ?" 

" Snap yo' linger oft, he gets it in his mouf." 

"Ah! I'll rememher that. And out in the big oak 
there's a bird comes everyday, building a nest, I think ; 
it is not a mocker nor a butcher bird, but resembles 
both. What is it called '. " 



78 TN FREE AMERICA. 

"A French mockin'-bird," drawled Sarah in her 
most mellifluous tones. 

"Oh, Sarah! you know there's no such bird; how 
can you tell me that ?" 

" Ma'am ? " 

Her voice was from the tomb. She had not caught 
my question. I did not repeat it, for that awful 
" Ma'am " always silenced me. 

Later on I asked if she knew why so many white 
people carried firearms. 

" To shoot niggers." 

" Are the colored people so dangerous as to require 
that?" 

"No," she replied, "but white folks shoot 'em jes' 
the same, shoot 'em like rabbits." 

"What do the colored people carry to protect them- 
selves ? " 

" Some keeps axes behin' thar do's ; some has nothin', 
they jes' prays." 

"Do not your people have razors in their cabins?" 
I had heard that the razor was the war weapon for the 
black man. 

" Yes," said she. 

" And what do they do with them ? " I asked, inter- 
ested for a story. 

"Shave," was her drawling, laconic response. 

1 laughed, and for a while was silent. 



A LTNCBING AFFAIR. 79 

When Sarah had cleared the tables, she took her 
Bible and began reading. It was not Long before she 
looked up at me questioningly. I nodded encourag- 
ingly, and she broke forth : 

" Sister Katie was jes' a-raisin' sand fcoeday." 

'" Raising sand,' Sarah ? " 

" Sister Katie done got religion, an' site's been a-hol- 
lerin' an' scritchin' like mad, jes' like mad, an' I dune 
got skeert an' lock mysel' iutoe my bedroom." 

" I [orrible ! To call such actions religion ! " 

••That's the way they all gits it; they all hollers toe 
let folks know of it," said she. 

" Have you got religion, Sarah ? " asked I timidly. 

" No," said she, " but I'se a sinner, an' I 'spects toe 
have it soon. I'se all ready an' a-waitin', but the Lord 
doan' seem toe fetch me in." 

" Well, Sarah," said I emphatically, " don't you dare 
to get religion while you are at work for me ; it would 
drive me out of the house ; and you would not be 
guilty of that." 

" ( )h ! I'se lock mysel' in my room an' jes' holler 
thar." 

" Well, you won't do that tonight, remember." 

" No ma'am," she replied, and went back to her Bible. 

I looked at the black African face bent over the Holy 
Writ. Poor barbarian, I thought, with your strange 
mixture of piety and superstition; not unlike your 



80 rJV FREE AMERICA. 

white sisters, you must find heaven after your own 
manner. 

" Sarah," said I softly, " would you not rather be 
' bright-faced ' mulatto, than so dark ? " 

She lifted her chin, rolled her solemn eyes at me and 
said : " I'd rather be jes' as I is." 

" Why ? " I asked. 

" 'Cos when folks is black they stays so, but if they 
' bright-faced,' they haves toe grows black." 

"Rare philosopher, I envy you your wisdom." 

" Yes, ma'am," said she, and again dropped her chin 
into her book. 

When she arose to go to her room I inquired if she 
ever felt timid alone. 

"Sometimes," she said, "after I blows out the light 
an' the man they hungs comes arouu'." 

" The man they hung ! A dead man, Sarah ? " 

•' Yes, ma'am, the man they hungs shere in Red City 
on the big oak 'fo' the courthouse. 

" Hung here, on an oak, before the courthouse ? " 

" Yes, ma'am ; I seen 'em do it," replied she. 

" You saw them do it, Sarah?" I asked, horrified. 

" Yes, ma'am, I jes' crowded in till I'se got right 
under de tree. I seen his legs kick an' his tongue 
hangin' out, an' golly ! didn't his eyes pop powerful?" 

Sin- was getting excited over her picture and so 
was 1. 



.1 /. )' Mill \i; AFFAIR. ,S| 

"Goon," I cried. "Tell me all about it, even if we 
get no sleep tonight." 

"I'se tole you all 1 knows," said she. "You ask 
Amos Green; lie tells you mo'; be was thar a-lookin' 
on, an' all de white folks in de city." 

"Horrible! horrible!" [cried. "Go. to bed, Sarah; 
ami may the dead man's ghost haunt you all night for 
being so wicked." 

In the early morning, as the sun was thrusting its 
yellow spokes up over the rim of the earth and the 
silver dew was cool upon the grass, I crept cautiously 
around to the little vine-covered cabin where the old 
preacher, Amos Green, slept and ate. 1 found him 
making coffee for his breakfast. He was to chop 
\\ 1 over in the, pine tract, and got around early. 

" Will you tell me about the man that was lynched 
from the 'big oak' last year, Mr. Green?" I asked 
abruptly. 

"You wants toe shear 'bout dat murder pow'ful, toe 
come 'fo' breakfast," said he grumblingly. " 1 wants 
my coffee. I'se feelin 1 pow'ful weak.'' 

"Oh, I will wait," I said, "right here on the steps. 
Have your breakfast, Mr. Green." 

I dropped onto the low wooden steps before the 

kitchen door — by the way, the only room in the housi 

and looked around. Roses and roses ! Thousands of 
the wild wliite Cherokee were running riotously over 



82 IN FREE AMERICA. 

trellises, decorating the fences, hiding unsightly walls. 
Roses and roses — Black Hearts, Jacqueminots, Mare- 
chal Niels and the Northern Blush, growing rank in 
cultivated spots. Roses and roses, enriching the air 
and beautifying the sight ! 

Amos Green's breakfast over, he came out and sat 
beside me on the steps. He was not well, he said, 
" all gone in his stomach mos' de time." The coffee 
had "cheered him some." He was " gwine toe chop 
bymeby.on de pine-tree, but befo' he went he'd talk 
some 'bout dat ' ' lynchin'.' " He'd been a free man 
" 'mos' fifty shear. He wor eighty shear now ; live all 
alone, jes' waitin' fur de Lord toe call him. He'd 
preached His word ever since he could remember, 
Long in' he wor free. Glad slabery over ? Doan'know 
'bout dat. No work but toe hunt fur massa's spectacles 
in dem days." 

At the old preacher's appreciation of his freedom I 
laughed, and said abruptly, anxious lest the chopping 
should call him and I might not hear about the 
murder : 

" What did that negro do why the people should 
lynch him ? " 

- 'Suited a po' white woman, a teacher from de 
North," he replied. 

" That was a wicked act." 

" It wor a mighty wicked," said he. " But it done 



A LYNCHING AFFAIR. 83 

no good fur toe take Chub Jackson from de jail an' 
hang him toe de oak-tree." 

" Did you see it done ? " I asked. 

" I seen it, de whole ob it, an' 'twor pow'ful hard." 

" I believe you, Mr. Green. But why did not the 
law interfere, or the respectable people of the town ? " 

"Ah! Yah! You doan knows all," said the old 
man. " It wor de irsprctfih/r peoples dat done it, an' 
ilr law looks on an' said nothin'. I never likes toe 
say much 'bout it, fur I'se has cole chills if I does, but 
yo's so mighty anxious, I tells yo'. Chub Jackson runs 
intoe de woods an' tries toe hide, but de officers wid de 
dogs runs him down an' shuts him up in de jail. De 
white peoples hears about cotchin' him, an' how he's 
dar in de jail house, an' dey goes down an' tells de 
jailor dey mus' hab Chub Jackson, or dey burns de 
jail down. 'What fur?' said de jailor. 'Toe hang 
him till he's dead,' said dey. ' But dat's de law's work 
an' not yourns,' said de jailor. ' Fotch him out,' said 
dey, 'or we'll come in an' fotch him.' De jailor never 
said no mo', but wid a big key he onloeked de do' ob 
de room whar Chub Jackson wor, an' fotches him so 
de peoples sees him. Chub's face wor as white as 
yourn, ma'am, an' he trembles an' trembles. He hab 
de han'eufi's on, so he could doe nothin' desprit. 
'Twor mighty solemn toe see Chub stan'in' dar 
a-shakin', an' dem dogs a-leapiu' toe git at him, dar 
red tongues" a-lickin' de air. I tries toe gits close toe 



84 rJV FREE AMERICA. 

Chub, toe speak a religious word, fur I knows what wor 
comin', but de peoples drives rue back an' say : ' Let 
him go toe hell, whar he belongs. Doan yo' waste 
none ob your ole prayers on him ! ' Den I tries toe 
pray aloud whar I wor, reckonin' Chub might cotch a 
word toe take wid him. But de peoples scritch so 
mighty loud I couldn't doe nothin'. Den I tries toe 
come away, but it wor toe late ; de rope wor roun' 
Chub's neck, an' two mens wor haulin' him up. Chub's 
face twitchin', purple, swung roun' toe me. His legs 
wor flyin' up an' down an' dom' a heap ob kickin'. I 
couldn't stan' it no mo', an' I jes' dropped on toe my 
knees an' prays. '0 Lord,' I said, ' speak toe dis po' 
creature's heart in de midst ob his dyin' agony. Let 
his wickedness be forgiben becos ob dy blood shed fur 
him. Remember not his sins against him, O Lord! 
O Jesus Christ ! on Calv'ry dy blood wor spilled fur 
Chub Jackson, an' now, Lord, carry 'long yo' work 
toe his salvation. De law ob de State hab been vi'lated 
in dis murder. He should hab been tried by de courts, 
Lord. " An eye fur an eye, an' a tooth fur a tooth," 
de Ole Test'ment say ; but yo' say : " A new law I gibs 
unto yo', dat yo' lubs one anudder." Yo', Lord, 
says, " Forgib yo' enemies, lub yo' persecutors." If dar 
wor rum in Chub Jacksou when he done dat wicked 
deed, furgib him fur dat — white mens hab done worse 
an' nebber hung fur it. Remember, Lord, dis black 
man's ignorance, de ignorance ob his father an' mother 



.1 LYNCHING AFFAIR. 85 

befo' him, de ignorance ob dem dat lived 'way back in 
slabery days, an' long befo' in black Africa. Remem- 
ber dey comes shere not by deysels, but wor brought 

in chains an' kep' in chains till dat day ob 'mancipa- 
tion. But, Lord, de bondage ob sin am worse dan 
de bondage ob slabery ; an' dis dyin' man am a sinner. 
Yo' mus' doe yo' work pow'ful quick, Lord, fur toe 
fotch him intoe de kingdom. J )c white mens hab mur- 
dered him, wes knows, O Lord. He should hab been 
tried by de courts, same as de white mens am ; 'twor 
his right as a citizen ob dese United States. None ob 
de white peoples shere hab enny sympathy wid him, 
but dy sympathy am mighty toe save. () Lord, forgib 
dem pussons dat am committin' dis awful crime, but 
'bove all sabe Chub Jackson, dat am comin' intoe dy 
presence dis very minute.'" 

The old preacher stopped. He raised a ragged 
sleeve and wiped his steaming face. 

" It am pow'ful hard toe go ober dat scene," he said. 

The tropical sunshine was falling hot through the 
interstices in the heavy foliage. A mocking-bird was 
trilling an aria on the rosebush just beside us. Away 
up among the fleecy clouds a iloek of buzzards were 
dipping their wings to the morning breeze. 

I turned to Amos Green. " Was anybody arrested 
and tried for the murder of Chub Jackson ?" 

"No,, ma'am," said he. " De white folks says, 
1 Served de nigger right?" 



Election at Red City. 

ONE October evening in the year 189 — an unusu- 
ally large concourse of men were to be seen in 
and around the store of Louis Hertz. The Democrats 
of the city were holding a caucus. The State election 
was close at hand, and the old " Bourbons," or " straight 
Democrats," as they were proud of calling themselves, 
consisting of dignified Floridians with the fine flavor 
of the slave-master still lingering in their personality, 
Northern " copperheads," " fire-eaters " of Carolina 
stock, illiterate " crackers," with a handful of ignorant 
negroes who loved rum better than honor, had repudi- 
ated, for certain political reasons, affiliation with the 
"Liberal" wing of the party, and proposed to run a 
ticket of their own. A circular had been issued to that 
effect, with a warning menace to those not friendly to 
the "straight" candidates to keep away from the cau- 
cus. To emphasize this menace, two men were sta- 
tioned at the entrance to the ward-room, each armed 
with two revolvers. 

The " Liberals," who hitherto had mingled with the 
old " Bourbons" in joint convention, did not relish this 
device of the latter to secure the nomination of their 
candidates on a Democratic State ticket. Considering 
themselves loyal to the old party, though conservative 



88 IN FREE AMERICA. 

as to the candidates proposed, they deemed it advisable 
for them, as Democrats, to take a hand in the affair, 
and, if possible, nominate those men whose political 
views were more in accordance with their own ; in 
short, to nominate " Liberals " on the straight Demo- 
cratic ticket. 

The "Liberals" were represented by Northern pro- 
fessors with mugwump tendencies. The " Liberals " 
were represented by Northern preachers, who had come 
to Florida for their health and to propagate the doc- 
trines of the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of 
man (white man). The " Liberals " were represented 
by the Northern grocer with a trade to establish, the 
Northern lawyer, whose politics must not antagonize 
his clients'. The " Liberals " were represented by land- 
owners and orange-growers, who, when at the North, 
were stanch Republicans. The " Liberals " were, so 
said the cult of Red City, the respectable wing of the 
Democratic party. 

It was a beautiful evening. The moon was at its full, 
and hung a resplendent globe of light in mid-heaven. 
The white sand roads and fields shone like burnished 
copper beneath it. The tropical foliage, dank and som- 
bre, cast strange, fantastic shapes across the sheen. 
Rich odors of flowers and fruits were afloat upon the 
air. Now and then a loud note, sweet and clear, from 
the throat of a mocker near by, would pleasurably 
startle the listener. 



ELECTION AT RED CITT. 89 

Louis Hertz was at his post. He was chairman of 
the Democratic City Committee. A South Carolina 
"fire-eater," he hated the Northerner, whatever his 
politics, as he did a poisonous snake. Always loyal to 
his secession principles, to him a Northern " turncoat " 
was the meanest tiling God ever made, ami lie swore 
an oath at the last election that never again in his 
district should a damn Yankee run lor office on the 
"straight" Democratic ticket. 

Judge H , an extant New York Tammany poli- 

tician in search of repose for his impaired nerves, had 
found the far-away clime of Red City congenial to his 
feelings and conscience, and for the past ten years had 
comfortably made himself a citizen of the place, lie 
was a good-looking man, pleasantly jocose, with a suave 
politeness which brought him many friends. In 1893 
he sought and gained a seat in the legislative halls at 
Tallahassee. Sent up by the Democrats of Red City. 
pledged to sustain by his influence and vote a certain 
bill which his party sought to carry, this man, well 
advanced in years and experience, sold out his constit- 
uents, as Judas did his Master, for a pitiful handful of 
silver. Bribed, he fell. What else could have been 
expected from a Tammany politician? 

Louis IL rl: never forgot. 

It was near eight o'clock. Since six the two armed 
sentinels had guarded the entrance door. Many had 



90 IN FREE AMERICA. 

come up, had been challenged and passed in. Foul- 
mouthed " crackers," defaming their right to the name 
of men, had loped across the threshold. Brutal negroes, 
counting their rum money as best they could, had 
shuffled in and out. Swaggering cowboys, in wide 
sombreros, with revolvers in their belts, strutted up and 
down, cracking their long whips till the air rang with 
repeated reverberations. 

Far up the boulevard a " Liberal " stepped from his 
Inline; a second joined him at the corner; farther down 
a third and fourth appeared, then a dozen issued from a 
side street, and so on until the number, representing 
the "better element" in politics, had swelled to fifty 

or more. Judge H ■ was prominent among them. 

They carried no arms. The olive branch of peaceful 
coalition was to be offered as their password. A bra- 
vado cowboy, itching for the " show " to begin, sighted 
the squad of men, and dexterously twirled the handle 
of his whip; the long lash hissed through the air, its 
knotted end cracking like a rifle report. 

Judge H put up his hand as if struck, remark- 
ing facetiously, " Boys will be boys." 

To the right and to the left young darkies were 
kicking up their dusky heels in the moonbeamed sand, 
rolling and tumbling over each other like pigs in a 
feeding trough. 

" Yo' gits hurt," said oue, " yo' goes down dar ; dey's 
gwine toe shoot sumbuddy dis night." 



ELECTION AT BED CITT. '.1 1 

As the "Liberals" neared the caucus they halted. 

Judge H urged that they should separate and 

quietly enter in pairs. He saw the armed men, and 
began to think Louis Hertz meant serious business. 
Some of the younger men were for making a grand 
rush, capturing the sentinels and the caucus at one 

move. Judge H thought this was not wise, lie 

knew Louis Hertz's inflammable temper, and said a 
show of tight would bring on a real one from him. 
Those men stationed at the door were only there to 
intimidate ; they would not dare to tire ou unarmed 
men. 

Judge H disliked a row. A quiet coup d'etat 

was more effective; and then he aimed to he county 
commissioner, and did not wish seriously to antagonize 
the " straight Democrats." 

But Louis Hertz never forgot. The balloting had 
begun when his keen black eyes discerned a disturbance 
at the door. He put his hand upon his hip pockel 
where the handle of a revolver protruded. 

A "cracker "in yellow corduroys cocked an eye to 
the entrance, shifted his quid from one cadaverous 
cheek to the other, and drawled: "I'm damned 
dummed, if'tain't the damned Yanks!" 

As he spoke two young professors sauntered noncha- 
lantly into the room; two Northern preachers, cajoled 
into politics this year, soon followed ; then half a dozen 



92 IN FREE AMERICA. 

others, recognized as "Liberals," made their way noise- 
lessly through the crowd. 

Louis Hertz saw them and his dark eyes flamed. 
What did it mean ? Had his men betrayed him ? Was 
not every man to be challenged ? Was not every 
"Liberal" to be kept out — every "Liberal" even at 
the cost of his life ? 

Ah ! now there is a disturbance. This time the 

guard know their man. Judge H is requesting 

admittance, bland, smiling, his speech delicately courte- 
ous. Will they not allow a friend to pass in ? Do they 
not know him as a Democrat of Led City, one working 
always for the interest of the old party? 

His silver tones pierce through tobacco smoke and 
drunken oaths to the ward-room. Louis Hertz hears it. 
He knows it. His teeth lock firm. Again his hand 
seeks his hip' pocket. He steps softly to the door. 
This man shall not be admitted. 

A wrangle of voices is going on outside. The senti- 
nels, are firm this time. "Dare to cross this threshold 
and you are a dead man," said one. 

The ex-Tammany judge smiles and hesitates. "Are 
those revolvers loaded? Will they dare fire at me?" 
flashes the thought through his mind. A dozen of his 
men have been allowed to enter. Did money change 
hands! ? If so, will it not do to offer ? He reaches for 
his pocketbook and stops. A snarl of rage and scorn 



ELECTION .17' RED CITY. 93 

greets his car. Through the open door the tiger eyes 

of Louis Hertz meet his. " G '1 you," hissed 

the Carolinian through his clenched teeth. "G 

d you !" again and again. Louis Hertz's passion 

is deadly. Judge II feels il. He tries to move 

backward a step. Behind him the crowd hool and 
press on. His friends are Ear in the rear. He cannot 
o-o forward in the face of death. He cannot go back. 
His suave smile becomes sickly. " This is cowardly ! 
he exclaimed desperately. 

The mob laugh and shout. "Who was the coward 
at Tallahassee?" 

On the ex-legislator's face great drops of sweal 
gather. Tammany never was brutal like this. Again 
he pleads: "Have yon no respect for age? my wife? 
my home ? 'your honor ? " 

Ah! ha! the last word is too much. 

" Honor, honor!" derisively shout the rabble. 

" Honor, he says," sneers Louis Hertz. 

The mob sway and push. The doomed man id 
pressed forward. The deadly weapons are close to his 
head. Another step, and — 

"Great God! Is there no escape? Am I to die 
like a dog ?" he cried. 

Up, over the threshold, he is carried. 

"Fire!" At the command, three revolvers Hash 
simultaneously, three bullets speed to their goal, and 



94 IN FREE AMERICA. 

across the doorway of a political ward-room in a city 
of one of the oldest civilized settlements in the United 
States, a man, a New York ex-Tammany judge, lies 
dead. Shot for attempting to exercise his right of 
citizenship. 



In Boston, 1900. 



IT was in a suburb of Christian Boston where he lived, 
the handsome, dark-skinned man, with his pretty, 
intelligent wife. 

He was born in Boston, and his father and mother 
were born in Boston, and their fathers and mothers 
were born in Boston, yet because the " blood of the 
stolen African " was in their veins, his neighbors called 
him a negro. They all knew that the "blood of the 
stolen African " was in his veins, and they let him know 
that they knew it. They were Christian people, these 
neighbors of the handsome, dark-skinned man, attend- 
ants at a great religious temple. They drove to the 
house of God every Sunday morning to worship; he 
also drove to the house of God every Sunday morning 
to worship. 

He was not a rich man compared with his neighbors' 
, wealth, but he had paid twenty-five thousand dollars in 
cash for his place, and his credit was still good. 

His business was that of a caterer; he had an estab- 
lishment on one of Boston's busiest streets. His neigh- 
bors there liked him, the men chatted with him about 
business and politics, and spoke of him as a fine fellow. 
Some of them even asked him for his vote at election 
time, when they aspired to serve the city in the council 

95 



96 IN FREE AMERICA. 

chamber or upon the school board. They never asked 
him to serve in that capacity. Oh, no! they never 
dreamed of such a thing, and he — he might have 
dreamed of such a thing as being desirable, but he knew 
better than to speak of it. He was a heavy taxpayer, 
and lie never dodged a payment, but he didn't talk 
about that, either. He had a family, this handsome, 
dark-skinned man : a quiet, pretty wife, with a clear 
yellow skin ; his three pretty children also had clear 
yellow skins, and one bad yellow hair and blue eyes. 
His wife was educated at a woman's college. Her 
understanding was excellent ; she could read and speak 
fluently in French, and in music she excelled. She 
was born in Boston, and her father and mother were 
born in Boston, and their fathers and mothers were born 
in Boston, yet the " blood of the stolen African " was in 
her veins. Five hundred years ago or more an ances- 
tor had been king of an African tribe, a free man with 
the strength born of freedom. Later a trader carrying 
rum and molasses from Christian Boston to the far-off 
heathen clime, brought back to the New Fngland city 
a loyal descendant of the king, a mere boy in years, a 
black fellow muscular as Hercules. He did not come 
of his own free will, so the Christian trader put him 
in irons and thrust him into the hold of the vessel. 
That was wisest, for he might, so the trader said, have 
destroyed himself by jumping overboard. The wife 



IN BOSTON, WOO. 97 

of the handsome, dark-skinned man didn't know much 
about her ancestry beyond the Bo ton family. Sbe 
couldn't talk of any that came over in the " Mayflower," 
nor could she boast of martial deeds done by them in 
the Revolutionary War. 

She was not a "Colonial Dame," nor could she aspire 
to be a "Daughter of the Revolution," but being an 
intelligent woman, she made her home very pleasant 
for her husband, and she was an affectionate and faith- 
ful mother to the three little children. Some of her 
neighbors were engaged in "slum" work. They did 
not tell her this, for they did not know her, but she 
learned of it through the children. They knew some 
little unfortunates living in the "slum" districts who 

said'their teacher lived on Si t, and that she 

was " beautiful." The'pretty wifeand mother believed 
the children, and thought it would be fine, and the 
proper thing for her also to do " slum " work. So one 
day she went down to <!. Street to help. 

Her neighbors from the suburb of Christian Boston 
were there, teaching little children to sew and cook, 
but they didn't recognize their neighbor with the clear 
yellow skin. Many of the children had clear yellow 
skins, but that was another matter. The pretty wife 
and mother began to see that she had made a mistake 
in thinking she could do " slum " work with her 
neighbors from the suburb of Christian Boston. When 



98 IN FREE AMERICA. 

she courageously told one lady that she, too, lived on 

Street, the lady blankly stared at her and said 

nothing. She was a good woman who directly cut the 
pretty wife and mother. Her heart was right. She 
doted on "slum" work; she loved the poor "unfortu- 
nates." Upon her knees she would scrub their dingy 
floors ; she would bring her own china and silverware 
to brighten their kitchen tables, but she couldn't 
smile on the pretty woman with the clear yellow skin 
from her own street. That was another matter; it 
would not do. Negroes were her aversion ! She owned 
a ranch in Georgia ; she would not sit at her table there 
with a negro, nor would she sit at the table with a 
negro in Christian Boston. Assuredly she believed in 
the " brotherhood of man," and her Christianity was 
not to be doubted. But to be frank, she could not 
associate on terms of equality with a negro, no matter 
how refined, how intelligent, how good. 

The wife of the handsome, dark-skinned man felt 
hurt at this, and she went to her home in the suburb 
of Christian Boston in tears. Her husband found her 
weeping when lie came home, and he put his arms 
around her and told her to tell him all about it, and 
she told him. He swore a great oath at what she said. 
It was a righteous oath, and I believe the angels in 
heaven recorded it as such. 

Then they talked it all over together, and he said he 



IX BOSTON, moo. 99 

had been guilty of a great sin to bring her to such a 
highly reputable neighborhood. Ee was sorry she had 
suffered; not for himself did he mind, but for her, his 
pretty, loving wife, to bear such insults. After this 
some decided, plain talk was made to him. One said 
how dare he aspire to live in a twenty-five-thousand- 
dollar house on Street. 

" Christian neighborhood ? " cautiously asked the 
caterer. 

" Assuredly," replied the wellwisher, with a wave of 
his hand toward a stately pile of marble that upheld a 
heaven-pointing spire. 

" Brothers and sisters in Christ ? " stammered the 
caterer. 

"Yes, yes," replied his interlocutor; "but frankly, 
would it not be better for you to sell out?" 

The handsome caterer thought of his pretty wife and 
her tears, and said it would be better for him to sell 
out. So the next week he sold out, and prepared to 
move from the suburb of Christian Boston. 

The following Sunday he took his pretty and intelli- 
gent wife and went dowii to Street church to hear 

Professor M. of Alabama talk on the "Negro and 
Lynch Law." Professor M. had come up from the 
South to raise money for his school. Boston people, 
were very liberal with their money ; they never withheld 
their hand when charity called aloud. Professor M. 



100 /-V FR$E AMERICA. 

knew this, and he anticipated great help from the 
Boston people. 

One day while waiting came the news of the riot at 
New Orleans. It was an awful affair. Everybody was 
reading about it and expressing themselves accordingly. 
Professor M. heard the opinions of Boston people, and 
at times he shuddered. Later came the news of the 
Ohio tragedy ; then followed the great upheaval of pas- 
sion in New York. 

Professor M. wept as the strong man weeps. This 
black teacher wept for his people. No more could he 
ask Boston" to aid him and his school until he had 
spoken what his soul now urged him to speak ! In the 

pulpit of Street church this memorable Sunday 

morning he stood forth, his dark, prophetic face lighted 
by enthusiasm, his sympathetic voice resonant witli hope. 
Beginning with the history of slavery in America, he 
spoke of the kidnapping system that flourished for 
years under the protection of the Flag. He spoke of the 
horrors of the slave-pen that flourished for years under 
the protection of the Flag. He spoke in strong words 
of the auction-block, where for years men and women 
were "knocked down " to the highest bidder under the 
protection of the Flag. He dwelt upon the lust of the 
slave-master, the white Southern gentleman who com- 
pelled his slave woman into illicit relations with him 
under penalty of death if they refused, all under the 



IN BOSTON, luOO. 101 

protection of the Flag. He spoke feelingly of the little 
children begotten in this compulsory relationship; of 
the tendency of their characters to hate the white race, 
who had robbed them of their birthright. 

"Kebellious mothers!" cried he, "submitting their 
bodies to the lust of their masters; what is to be 
expected of the fruit of such ? And yet, my race 
never forgot its God. Through all those dreadful yeai 
when the white man forgot and the white woman for- 
got, the prayers of the wronged black wife and mother 
went up to Heaven pleading fm- release, pleading for 
help from her Maker; and God heard. Had it not 
been thus, had not the religious spirit been there stir- 
ring in the breast of the slave-woman, beyond redemp- 
tion those children born of lust and compulsion. Rape 
of damning character was this, going on for years 
under the protection of the Stars and Stripes. 

" But," said the preacher, " this is over. Slavery is 
dead. Auction-blocks and slave-pens have passed 
away ! No more does the black woman plead for her 
virtue to inhuman ears ! No more are husband and 
wife separated by the dealer in human flesh ! Forever 
over the traffic in young maidens to satisfy the lust of 
the white man! Former things have passed awaj 
What remains ? " 

The preacher stopped. A great stillness had fallen 
upon the congregation. It was the stillness of intense 



102 IN FREE AMERICA. 

excitement, and for a moment he rested in the quiet. 
Then continuing : 

" There remains," cried he, " a race of ten million 
African Americans ! a race of ten million aspiring 
people ! a race reaching out for education ! a race 
reaching out for opportunity ! a race reaching out for 
their rights as citizens of this great American republic ! 
a race reaching out for political and social recognition ! 

" Did slavery produce this people ? Did slavery pro- 
duce this race of rising black men and black women ? 
No, no. This is not the fruit of auction-block and 
slave-pen ! not the product of lust and rebellion ! not 
the consequence of a system fouler than hell! Slavery 
could not enslave the slave, for God was in the slave's 
heart ! 

" Slavery bound the enslaver only. Slavery begot 
a manacled and fettered white race, today shamefully 
boasting its superiority. Slavery produced men and 
women who in this year of 1900 repudiate the prin- 
ciples of the Declaration of Independence, Christian 
men and women who repudiate the religion of Jesus 
Christ. Slavery bound the enslaver and spread the 
fatal influence far and wide. Today at the South, at 
the West, even here' in abolition Boston, is heard the 
clank of the chain* and the crack of the whip. 

" Slavery produced ' lynch law ' supporters ! Slavery 
begot holocaust supporters ! Slavery begot one law 



IX BOSTON, l!>00. 103 

for the white man, another law for the black man ' 
Slavery produced a Christian North which not yet has 
squarely faced the world with the sublime teachings 
of Jesus Christ! Slavery produced a press which but 
yesterday gave utterance to a calumnious interpretation 
of the Declaration of independence. Says the New 
Orleans Picayune: ' The Declaration of Independence 
taught only the equality of men of the superior race. 
It «ave no freedom to the negro slave, and offered no 
terms but submission and deportation to the red Indian ; 
as to equality, it inures only to those who are able to 
main tain it.' 

"I believe," continued the preacher, "that to a law- 
abiding people mob violence is decidedly obnoxious, 
but I believe that a law-and-order-loving people can 
carry a degree of prejudice toward a race without visi- 
ble evidence of such, hut which may so permeate the 
whole community in which they live, that under excited 
conditions will act like a flame to the gunpowder ele- 
ment, which comprises the less self-controlled part of 
humanity. 

"When Boston says of a negro criminal, ' he ought 
to be lynched ! ' it is putting the lighted torch into the 
hands of the violent breaker of the law. It may he 
that the South has some reason, unchristian as it is, to 
resent living on terms (if equality with those who, but 
a short time ago, were to them the same as their horses 



104 IN FllEK AMERICA. 

and dogs. But for the abolition North to sustain the 
South in that sentiment — and it does, by a stolid indif- 
ference to the outrages perpetrated against the black 
man in lynching, in suppression of his vote by tissue 
ballot or the shotgun, by the unjust laws recently 
passed by several Southern States in direct opposition 
to the laws of the United States — savors of an incon- 
sistency hardly conceivable to one familiar with New 
England history. 

" New Orleans has its lynch law for the black man ; 
Boston has its complete social ostracism for the edu- 
cated colored man or woman ; it also has its industrial 
ostracism for the race. No negro, whatever his or her 
ability, is to be found as bookkeeper in a Boston office, 
acting as clerk in a Boston store, or filling a teacher's 
position, with one or two rare exceptions, in its public 
schools. Said the great political economist of England, 
John Stuart Mill: 'Society can and does execute its 
turn, mandates; and if it issues wrong mandates instead 
of right; or any mandate nt nil with which H ought not 
In meddle, it practices a social tyranny mon formidablt 
llmii many kinds •>/ political oppression ; since though 
iin/ a plu !il In such extreme penalties, it leaves j'< wer 
mi nun of escape, penetrating much mure deeply into the 
details of life, and enslaving the soid itself.' 

" Those negroes killed in the riots of 1900 were vic- 
tims of injustice at the hands of the whole American 



/,V BOSTON, WOO. 10") 

people. That sad chapter in the history of New Orleans 
will he read by future generations as a chapter in 
American history, and on the whole United Slates will 
the stain rest. Any man or woman who declares lynch 
ing to be just for a negro guilty of whatever crime, 
stirs just such men as Robert Charles, and the mob 
he dared, to desperate deeds of violence. Every white 
pulpit North or South, that remains silent as to the 
enormity of the sin of negro persecution, whether by 
the state law or against it, is guilty of repudiating tin' 
principles of the Constitution of the United States 
ami the sublime doctrines of Jesus Christ. 

" Wherever there is an American professing the Chris- 
tian religion guilty of proclaiming a superiority over 
the black man or woman because of any race differentia, 
I claim that American repudiates the principles of the 
Declaration of Independence and the principles of 
that divine religion on which the Declaration rests 
In a recent essay on the Negro question the foremost 
representative of his race, Mr. Hooker T. Washington, 
has said : 

" ' Education will solve the race problem,' but of that 
education he says: 'I do not mean education in the 
narrow sense, but education which begins in the home, 
and includes training in industry and in habits of thrift 
as well as mental, moral ami religious discipline, ami 
the broader education which comes from contact with 



106 7JV FREE AMERICA. 

the public sentiment of the community in which one 
lives.' 

" President Washington's apprehension of the want of 
the negro of a history, of a past, of hornes and inspira- 
tion as a stimulus in overcoming obstacles when striv- 
ing for success, might be questioned as illogical if 
illustrated by his own case, which he cites as one of 
many. 

" He says : ' I do not know who my own father was ; 
I have no idea who my grandmother was ; I have or had 
uncles, aunts and cousins, but I have no knowledge as 
to where most of them now are.' 

" Of President Washington's ability to rank with the 
proudest professor of a Northern college the public is 
well aware; and knowing which might ask, if want of 
family history produces such men as he, is it well to lay 
extraordinary stress upon history, past, and homes as a 
stimulus in overcoming obstacles for any race. 

" An acquaintance of mine, a man of letters, professor 
in a colored university of South Carolina, a mau edu- 
cated in a Paris college, having the Anglo-Saxon 
features and hair straight as an Indian, is compelled, 
by a recent law of South Carolina, to ride with his 
beautiful wife in the ' Jim Crow ' car, set apart for 
negroes. 

"The great lawmaker of South Carolina, Senator 
Tillman, boasts of his family lineage ; my friend the 



IN BOSTO V, niOO. 107 

professor says but little of his obscure descent. (If the 
permanent success of the two men, one striving for 
repudiation of the American Constitution, the other 
building for that Constitution, to maintain its princi- 
ples: — 'All men are born free and equal,' — the 
intelligent world can decide. 

"I believe with Booker T. Washington that family 
prestige is a thing to be desired, but there is something 
greater : our heritage from God, to believe in one's own 
manhood and womanhood, to believe in one's kinship 
with the Eternal Life; that Life that knows no white 
nor black, no bond nor free, for all are one in Him. 

" Robert Charles is dead, Captain Day is dead ; the 
riots of 1900 have passed into history; no hand can 
add to or take one horror from those godless transac- 
tions. Upon a score of homes the shadow of untimely 
death doth rest; upon Christian America is the stain of 
murder. North and South are one in the shedding 
of innocent blood; North and South are one in the 
unholy persecution of an inoffensive people. 

" For both there is but one repeal : the recognition and 
maintenance of the equality of white and black politi- 
cally, civilly and socially throughout the length and 
breadth of these United States!" 

The black preacher stopped. The sermon was over. 
The people were too deeply impressed to linger or talk 
about it. They slowly tiled from the church and went 



108 IN FREE AMERICA. 

to their homes. Our friend, the handsome, dark- 
skinned man from the suburb of Christian Boston, went 
home. Again he talked it all over with his pretty 
wife, and they concluded it was best to remain in the 
Christian suburb. The next day the caterer, taking 
advantage of a "great bargain" offered for sale across 
the street, bought a new home, and with his pretty, 
intelligent wife and their three little children, is living 
there today. 



In Ole Alabam'. 

(( DATHBONE !" The woman's voice was an 
1\ unusually sweet and soft one, and Rathbone 
turned lazily on his stomach to his other side, that he 
might hear the better. 

" Dey's kick'n up pow'ful up in ole Alabam'!" 
She tucked a refractory "cornrow" hack under her pink 
sunbonnet as she spoke. "An' 1 reckons dey's gitt'n 
ready fo' de ' Day of Judgment ' ! " 

" Wlio tole yo'?" asked the man, pushing his hare 
black toes deep into the hot white sand. 

"Who tole me?" said the woman loftily. "Dat's 
my bis'ness, Rathbone ; I tole yo' de fact, dey's kick'n' 
up pow'ful up in ole Alabam', an' I reckons dat ' Day 
of Judgment' ain't fur off." 

"Who tole yo'?" repeated the man peremptorily, 
drawing his dusky toes from the sparkling sand, only 
to push them deeper into the moist heat. 

The woman knew Rathbone's temper, and yielded. 

"Dat's Tilly's Sam's news," said she. "Come straight : 
Sam saw de mos' of it, an' heard mo', an' he reckons 
with me dat dat ' Day of Judgment ' am on its way toe 
ole Alabam' ! " 

"Curse Sam an' the 'Day of Judgment.' Why doan' 
the papers give it toe us here?" The man pulled an 

109 



110 IN FREE AMERICA. 

arm thick with purple whipcords from beneath his 
head, and rolled onto his back. 

" The papers lie an' lie ! " 

The woman shook back the belligerent " cornrow " 
into the depths of her pink sunbonnet, and tossed the 
remnants of the dinner to the watchful birds. 

" It's toime we's at de pick'n', Rathbone ; yo' knows 
why we doan' have de news in de papers ; yo' knows dey 
doan' mean de black folks toe know de truth of dese 
things, an' so dey's workin' fo' dat ' Day of Judgment,' 
but I'se heard heaps from Tilly's Sam ; Sam's riz toe de 
occashun an' tole all he knows ; Sam's gowine back, 
but he's gowine back toe work fo' his people ! " 

The woman stood up, tall, straight and handsome, 
her yellow face aglow with intelligence. 

" Yes, Sam's gowine back toe work fo' his people," 
she repeated. 

Rathbone turned his somber, black eyes up to his 
wife's clear, hopeful ones ; he saw the light of expecta- 
tion in their depths; he saw her straight, lithe form, 
and he recognized her strength ; then his glance dropped 
to his own rude limbs ; he laid a strong, supple hand 
on the swelling bunch of purple whipcords of his right 
arm, and drawled : " Thar's muscle 'nough, Nelly ; is it 
muscle that Tilly's Sam's gowine toe use fo' his people ? " 

" Certainly it am, Rathbone," said she, " muscle an' 
grace ; de Lord gives both fo' de work." 



IN OLE ALABAM'. Ill 

She tied the pink strings of her sunbonnet into a 
hard knot, reflecting that it was for six hours. 

" But how 'bout brains, Nelly ? " testily asked her 
husband. 

"Brains, Rathbone, am reckoned in long de grace; 
brains am no 'count without de grace." 

Rathbone shook himself angrily, every whipcord in 
his dusky arms purpling. " Thar's brains at Tallahassee, 
Nelly," cried he ; " doe yo' 'low thar's grace thar ? Thai's 
brains up in ole Alabam', whar black men are tied toe 
trees an' burned toe death ; doe yo' 'low thar's grace thar '. 
Thar's brains, heaps of 'em, in Washington ; doe yo' 'low 
thar's grace thar ? Thar's brains way north in Boston." 
Here Rathbone laughed a" bitter, caustic laugh. " Way 
north in Boston, whar brains are born ; doe yo' 'low thar's 
grace thar ? " 

" Rathbone," observed Nelly solemnly, " Boston am 
out of de question ; never could dar be a burnin' dar, 
nor no shootin's, nor drownin's, nor cuttin's up loike 
what's gowine on up in ole Alabam'. Yes, Rathbone, 
Boston am out of de question." 

Again Rathbone shook himself angrily, his slumber- 
ous eyes kindling. 

" No, Nelly ' " he cried ; " no lynchin's, no burnin 's, 
no cuttin's up black men alive way north in Boston." 

Rathbone slowly rose to his feet, stretched his bare 
black arms into the radiant air. " But burnin's an' 



112 IN FREE AMERICA. 

lynchin's an' shootin's an' cuttin' up black folks alive 
has thar prototype in the feeliu's of Boston's culture ; 
they has thar prototypes in the feeliu's of superiority 
that Boston's white folks claim over the black race. 
No negro, Nelly, even with the education an' refinemeut 
of the best blood of Boston, can enter intoe its social 
life on terms of equality. Money won't 'low it, culture 
won't 'low it, fame won't low it, education nor goodness 
won't low it. No, no, Nelly ; let Tilly's Sam doe all he 
can fo' his people, but thar it stan's : the fact that that 
man, havin' the blood of the stolen African in his veins, 
never sits in the parlors of a Boston white rnan as his 
frien'. Slavery did it, Nelly, an' the curse am still at 
work." 

Nelly and Rathbone were now way down in the 
held, Nelly's pink sunbonnet nodding close to her hus- 
band's head, her lithe yellow fingers darting in and out 
among the bursting cotton-balls. 

"What's gowine toe make de change, Rathbone?" 
she drawled sweetly. 

" I never reckoned thar war gowine toe be any 
change," said he, " long's the color of the skin an' the 
kink in the har am a separatiu' line 'twbct peoples." 

Nelly shook her head at Rathbone from over her 
basket. " I reckons," said she. " dat dat line can be 
rub out." 

"Rub out!" cried he; "yes, rub out with blood! 



I.\ OLE ALABAM'. 1 l:t 

the black man's blood an' bhe white man's blood toe 
make the peoples Eree ! " 

"No, Rathbone, aot with blood ; no rub out dat line 
with blood. 'Tis lie Lord's work ; 'tis de Lord's han' 
ilat'll ruli out dat line, an' we's toe work with him ; it 
am with grace, Rathbone, an' aot with blood." 

"That line am drawn mighty sharp up in Boston," 
said Rathbone untentiously, " whar black men lias do 
chance in the schools as teachers; no chance in the 
stores as clerks; no chance in the white churches with 
the white Christian ; no chance in the government of 
which they am a part; no chance for social life in the 
homes of the white Christian; yes, Nelly, that sepa- 
ratin' line am drawn mighty sharp way north in 
Boston." 

" Rathbone ! " the voice was very soft and sweet. 
" Am yo' gowine toe work fo' yo' people ? " 

Again Rathbone laughed, bitter ami caustic. 

" I'se gowine toe work fo' nobody." 

His basket, swimg high at his side, was bulging 
white with the cotton-balls. 

•■ I'se gowine toe work fo' nobody," repeated he em- 
phatically. 

Rathbone's voice grated harsh, musical as it was, on 
Nelly's ear. 

" Yo's needed," replied she. " Yo's has a pow'ful 
!i. an' with de grace I reckons yo' beats Tilly's 
Sam." 



114 IN FREE AMERICA. 

Rathbone swung the basket slowly to his shoulder. 

" I'se gowine toe work fo' nobody ! " replied lie dog- 
gedly. " I knows the way, but it am another thing toe 
walk in that way." 

" Yo' only needs de grace, Rathbone, jes' de grace." 

Nelly's pink bonneted head nodded emphatically 
close to her husband's. " Tilly's Sam has de grace." 

" Who tole yo', — Sam ? " 

Of Rathbone's irony Nelly took no heed. " Sam 
tole nothin' but dem stories of dar burnin' colored 
folks alive. ' All facts,' said Tilly's Sam ; an' Sam he 
reckoned with me dat dat ' Day of Judgment ' war 
comin' fast toe ole Alabam'." 

" What Sam gowine toe doe 'bout it ? " drawled 
Rathbone lazily. 

" Tilly's Sam doan say what he's gowine toe doe, 
but I reckon he knows, an' he's gowine toe doe it mighty 
quick." 

" Did Sam tell yo' the whole of that las' affair ? " 
asked Rathbone after a pause, during which he had 
swung another repleted basket from his shoulder to the 
" load." 

Nelly threw up her smooth, yellow arms in a depre- 
catory manner. " All of it," said she, " an' mo' ! " 

" What mo' ? " asked he. 

" 'Bout dat Texas burnin'," she replied. " Tilly's 
Sam said dat was America's greatest shame yet ; Sam 



IN OLE .1 LABAM\ \ 15 

said dat de ministers of de gospel looked on at dat, an' 
dc railroads run excurshun trains toe de scene, cheap 
fares fo' everybody. An' Sam said one of his neighbors, 
;i very respectable while man, cut off a piece of de 
black man's tongue, wile he war agonizin'; 8am saw de 
piece, an' he said 'twar much as lie could doe toe hole 
on toe hissfl' wile dat neighbor war a-talkin' 'bout it, 
how de 'right thing' had bin done toe dat 'nigger'!" 

It was a blue flame that leaped from Rathbone's 
eyes, while for a moment a smile infernal contorted his 
heavy features. " An' what nex' ? " said he. 

" An' Tilly's Sam said what want burnt up of dat 
man wartotedoff fo' souv'nirs. Sam's neighbor brought 
dat piece of tongue home fo' his sweetheart's locket, to 
w ear on her bosom." 

"God! God! God!" 

It was a wild, passionate cry, wrung fmm Rathbone's 
heart. 

Defiantly, protestingly, he flung his arms to the blue 
sky. 

"God! God!" 

" An' Sim's gowine toe work fo' his people," said the 
woman with suppressed emotion. There was a long 
silence on Rathbone's part after this, then he broke out 
with : 

•■ Look aheah, Nelly, I reckon Sam wants toe be 
lynched!" 



116 IN FREE AMERICA. 

Nelly lifted her luminous eyes up to her husband's 
inquiringly. 

" Am yo' afeard, Rathbone 1 " said she. 

Rathbone thrust a bunch of foamy cotton into his 
basket, quickly responding : " Afeard of notliin', afeard 
of nobody, an' fo' nobody, but I reckons Tilly's Sam'll 
be lynched." 

" Tilly's Sam have grace fo' all things," replied Nelly 
piously. "An' Sam's gowine toe work fo' bis people." 

Again there was a long silence on Rathbone's side of 
the row; from her side Nelly kept up au inarticulate 
running melody of sound, every period rhythmically 
ending with: "An' de 'Day of Judgment' am on its 
way toe ole Alabam'." 

The brilliant tropical sun was wheeling slowly into 
the west. High against the deepening sky the brown- 
winged buzzard was dipping its wings to the evening 
breeze. The moist, hot air pulsated and shimmered. 
Upon the clump of pines away across the fields a por- 
tentious shadow rested ; Rathbone saw it, and said to 
himself : " Mos' six," swinging another overflowing bas- 
ket to his shoulder. 

Nelly was far down in the row, but she was coming 
on fast, her nimble yellow fingers darting like humming- 
birds in and out among the white exuberant blooms. 
When she was within bearing distance Rathbone spoke: 
" Yo' reckons Tilly's Sam's equal toe it ? " Nelly's eyes, 



IX OLE ALABAM'. 117 

undimmed by toil or fear, were raised to Rathbone's. 

" De Lord am back of 'Filly's Sam,'' said she. Rathl e 

nodded and drawled. "But if Washington doan beah 
the voice of the Lord, Nelly ? " 

" It have got toe heah, Rathbone," said she quickly. 
" Washington have got toe heah de voice of de Lord 
speakin' through Tilly's Sam. Washington have got 
toe heah de voice of de Lord tellin' of de wrongs 
of bis people; an'," she continued, " dat ' Day of Judg- 
ment' am comin' toe ole Alabam'. " At Nelly's words 
Rathbone rose to his full height, bis heavy, somber eyes 
lighted with hope ; a smile of happy expectancy played 
over his features ; bis whole being rpiivered with life. 
The prophetic spirit of his race was upon him, and 
by a divine impulse he was moved to speech. " Yes ! 
yes ! " he cried, " Washington have got toe heah ! Yes ! 
yes ! Boston have got to heah ! the whole world have 
got toe heah ! fo' it am the Lord Jehovah that am 
speakin' through his people. It am the voice of the 
Lord Jehovah that am crying out toe be heard; Jesus 
Christ said: 'Love one another,' an' it am love that's 
gowine toe doe it. It am justice that am gowine toe 
doe it. Tilly's Sam am gowine toe be heard. An' every 
black man am gowine toe be heard when love and 
justice speaks thro' him. 

"The black womans am gowine toe be heard; they 
am 'risin in thar might; they am 'risin in thar love of 



118 IN FREE AMERICA. 

justice; they am 'risin in the glory of the Lord. Thai- 
am petitions gowine up to the throne of grace ; thar 
am petitions gowine up to Washington ; thar am peti- 
tions with ev'ry black han' a-signin' them gowine up to 
Congress, fo' Congress to keep the Constitution pure, fo' 
Congress to keep the principles of its founders pure. 
' All men am born free an' equal,' am the golden rule of 
government ; let ev'ry black man an' woman know it; 
let ev'ry white man an' woman believe it, fo' it am God's 
word. The winds of heaven am blowin' it over the 
world. ' Free an' equal,' sing the hills; ' Free an' equal,' 
shout the seas ; ' Free an' equal,' thunders roll ; free an' 
equal ev'ry soul ! " 

Triumphantly Eathbone's voice rang out on the radi- 
ant air. 

" Glory ! glory ! " cried Nelly ecstatically. " Glory of 
dat better day, when 

Peace on. earth, good-will toe men' 
All hearts shall stray ! " 

The summer night was close at hand, the long day's 
work for Rathbone and Nelly was over, and, happy in 
hope, they passed from the field to their home. 



Kansas' Tragedy. 1 901. 

A MOM of frenzied men, and, oh shame! of women, 
angrily clamoring for the blood of a black boy! 

It was in the public streets of Leavenworth, in the 
great " Free State" of Kansas. 

It was in this year of our Lord, nineteen hundred and 
one. 

1 1 was in " Free America." 

It was a Christian people, putting to shame the sav- 
age butchery of a Nero populace ! 

It was the North and South mingling their preju- 
dices in an outrage unparalleled in human history ! 

It was hate incarnate ! 

It was the spirit of slavery beating down the bul- 
warks of our American civilization ! 

It was Cain crying for the blood of his brother ! 

It was the seared conscience of pulpit and press 
dumbly acquiescent ! 

It was the state of Kansas traitorous to the princi- 
ples of our immortal independence! 

It was the religion of today repudiating the teachings 
of its Divine Master ! 

It was injustice triumphant ! 

The negro boy, Fred Alexander, was not convicted 
of the crime for which be was burned. " An attempted 

11!) 



120 IN FREE AMERICA. 

assault on a woman." " The supposed murderer of 
Fearl Forbes," so reads the record ; but it was enough, 
so declared eight thousand Christian white men. It 
was sufficient, so declared that mob of eight thousand 
white and pure, spotless in their virtue ! 

Eight thousand men immaculate in their chivalry to 
vindicate the honor of a woman ! 

A mob of American citizens unimpeachable in their 
integrity to honor their nation ! 

A mob of devotees unimpeachable in their devotion 
to chastity ! 

( )h, let the spotless purity of the white man look to 
itself ! 

In this year of our Lord nineteen hundred and one, 
eight thousand Christians burning at the stake an inuo- 
cent negro boy ! 

Calvary pales at this deed ! 

Gethsemane shrinks at this woe ! 

Let " Free America " read the story of its shame. 
The crowd had gained entrance to the stockade, and 
there was a yelling mob in the jail-yard. The doors of 
the cell-room were then broken down, and despite his 
outcries the negro was dragged into the open. He had 
been struck over the head with a hammer, but was still 
conscious. Men sought to get at him, and infuriated 
struck savagely at him, hitting only his captors, who 
guarded him well. 



KANSAS' TRAGEDY. 1901. li'l 

" Don't hurt him now ! " they cried ; " we'll burn him." 
Up the hill and into the courthouse yard they dragged 
him, and there they stopped. 

Ah ! what a picture for America to contemplate ! 

A black hoy, barely twenty years, barely free from 
the shackles of slavery, surrounded by a mob of fren- 
zied men clamoring savagely for his blood ! 

beloved Columbia! low in the dust trails thy 
glorious banner, beautiful symbol of thy greatness. 
Dim are the stars upon the bine; pale are the stripes 
of ineffable glory ; hushed are the voices of freedom; 
dumb are the lips of justice ! 

In reply to demands for a confession the negro said : 
"lam innocent; I am dying for what another man 
did. Tliere are those here that Limn- I did not do it. 
lam not guilty of the crime. I am an innocent man'' 

When the doomed boy had finished talking he was 
backed against a cotton-wood tree in a corner of the 
yard and told again to confess. 

" My (iod! men" he cried, " / have told you that 1 
am in unreal. I can tell you no more. I did not do 
it." 

Again the mob shouted for him to confess; once 
again the boy protested his innocence. 

The suggestion to take him to the scene of the crime 
met with instant approval, and the crowd hooting, 
pushing, swaying, carried him before it to the corner 



122 IN FREE AMERICA. 

of Lawrence avenue and Spruce street. There a semi- 
circle was formed, and Alexander was shoved forward 
into full view. A howl went up as the prisoner raised 
his shackled hands and tried to speak. He was then 
driven down the embankment to a pile of wood, and 
there chained to a railroad iron planted upright in the 
ground. Wood and boards were piled around him, and 
over all was poured coal-oil. Before firing the mass, 
John Forbes, father of the murdered girl, stepped up 
to the prisoner and said : " Are you guilty of murder- 
ing my daughter ?" 

" No ! no ! " cried the doomed boy ; " / don't know 
mli a l ifmi have me here for'' 

" For killing my daughter," said Forbes, " on this 
very spot." 

"Mr. Forbes," said the negro, " you have the wrong 
man. Yon, arc burning an innocent man. Y<>n. took 
advantage of me ; you gave me no show. Can I see my 
mother ? " 

A man in the crowd called for the mother, but there 
was no response ; the mother was not there. Then said 
Alexander : " Will you let me shake hands with my 
friends ? " " You have no friends in this crowd, you 
beast," was the reply. Again coal-oil was poured over 
the man; again the mob pushed and swayed to get at 
him, jeering ami hunting. Again the boy protested his 
innocence: " T didn't doit, God, F didn't do it." Then 
he cried out, " <! 1-ljy," and closed his eyes. 



KANSAS' TRAGEDY. 1901. 123 

Air. Forbes lighted the match, and again called on 
him to confess, and again the boy replied: ' / have 
nothing to say." Then the flames leaped up, the crowd 
tuniultuously shouting. 

Alexander turned a ghastly hue, and clasping his 
hands together began to sway to and fro. In ten min- 
utes all that was left of him was hanging limp and life- 
less by the chains, and the Christian American public 
was satisfied. 



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IN PRESS. 



THE STORY OF THE 



AS 

Slave, Citizen and Soldier. 

By THEOPHILUS G. STEWARD, D.D., Chaplain 
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MILES. Fully illustrated from drawings and photo- 
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U. S. authorities at Washington. So that with the writer's 
well-known ability as a literary worker, the book can be de- 
pended upon as an exhaustive and valuable history. It is a 
most valuable contribution to the subject of Negro Sociology. 



AGENTS WANTED EVERYWHERE. LIBERAL COMMISSION. 

Address at once lor lull particulars and special territory, 

The Colored Co-operative Publishing Company, 

5 Park Square, Boston, Mass. 



